


I Did Not Bury The Hatchet

by KDblack



Category: Pocket Monsters | Pokemon - All Media Types
Genre: Canon Non-Binary Character, Gen, I just have so many feelings about Mewtwo, Mew is an adorable eldritch horror, Other, Reincarnation, Self-Insert, a slightly more well-adjusted Mewtwo is still terrifying to deal with, but neither is Ash's determination to catch or at least befriend them, don't ask me to recite canon okay, legendary Pokemon are not to be messed with, of a sort, vague mishmash of continuities
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-18
Updated: 2021-01-10
Packaged: 2021-02-18 07:55:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 23,764
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21840844
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KDblack/pseuds/KDblack
Summary: Mewtwo. I was Mewtwo.The most powerful Pokemon. Created under the order of Giovanni. A psychic strong enough to end the world.But I didn't need to end the world. My world was already disappearing. Squirtletwo. Bulbasaurtwo. Charmandertwo. They had already vanished. And now, Ambertwo was fading away before my eyes. I grabbed at her with hands that held no substance, seeking the illusion of touch. When our projections connected, I felt only the shudder of failing lungs and the sickening pull of a nervous system already shutting down.She gave me a shaky smile. “You should be happy. You're alive, and life is wonderful.”(Accompanied by the uncertain memories of his previous incarnation and the psychic imprint of a dead friend, a freshly awakened Mewtwo sets out on a journey of self-discovery. The future of an entire world is about to be derailed.)
Relationships: Mew/Mewtwo (Pokemon), Mewtwo & Ambertwo
Comments: 303
Kudos: 755
Collections: An Assortment of Damn Good Fics, Reincarnation and Transmigration





	1. The Birth of Mewtwo

**Author's Note:**

> _When I Say I Forgive You, Know This_
> 
> _I did not bury the hatchet.  
>  I have the hatchet in my hands.  
> I am building myself a new house._  
> -Brenna Twohy

...I had a dream. 

A dream of sunny days and warm smiles. Cloudy days and scornful smirks. Uncertain days of dappled lighting, when it was impossible to discern any expressions at all.

I dreamed of laughing so hard I couldn't breathe. Of crying until my throat closed off. Of anger so strong, so consuming, that it became a tangible thing.

I dreamed of grief and bittersweet longing for people who weren't there anymore. Who I loved dearly. Who I carried with me, even though we would never be able to meet again.

Walking down the street with a friend whose name I could not recall, talking about stories and philosophy and funny things which had happened to us for hours on end. Sitting in classes, letting information drift through me while I doodled despite my lack of artistic talent. Writing, typing, dictating story after story, an overpowering flood of ideas to match the racing of my thoughts. Most of those concepts were never put down on paper, never expanded beyond the initial outline. Even so, I loved them. Just as I loved my parents, my friends, my pets.

Looking back, it truly was a life full of love.

* * *

I had a dream. A long, peaceful dream. Then I woke, and forgot. It would have stayed forgotten, if I hadn't been so scared. 

Bright lights. Thick liquid sliding over raw skin. A numb, floating feeling. My heart thundering in my chest. Raised voices, speaking from far away. And right in front of me, a street, a park, a home dissolving into nothingness.

Ambertwo's remember place was crumbling, and so was she.

“It feels like... it's time... to say goodbye.”

“Goodbye?” I echoed. This felt familiar. Like something I had seen before. “I feel... something... what is this?”

I meant _what is happening?_ , but she heard _what are these?_. Even mind-to-mind, communication is difficult. And so she spent her last moments explaining to me what tears were, while I tried to get a grasp on my situation.

“My daddy used to tell me a bedtime story...”

Where was I? In a tube, something told me, dreaming shared dreams. The remember place was crumbling because it wasn't real – just the construct of two powerful psychics who had yet to be born. It was a thought. A wish. A hope, passed down from the first Amber to the second, and now, to me.

“...that when Pokemon are sad...”

What was I? A Pokemon? A person? Was there a difference? Blurred memories from that long dream drifted back to me. Pixels. Action figures. A hundred soft plush toys and a million in-game models. Brightly coloured creatures which said their names, which fought and competed, which protected each other. Charmandertwo, Bulbasaurtwo, Squirtletwo, but... different. And beside them, figures like Ambertwo. Figures which could only be 'people'.

“...and they cry...

A grinning boy with his hat on backwards, throwing a ball half-red and half-white at the screen. _Pikachu, I choose you!_

“...their tears are full of life.”

Something wet splashed over my phantom cheek. Was I crying? I must have been. Even though my body was motionless and already soaking wet, my mind had conjured up the illusion of tears. I should say something. I should do something, before it was too late. Instead, I floated there, silent, trying to remember my name.

I'd had one once. I knew it. But the syllables slipped through my fingers. Ambertwo was still fading – only her upper body was left now. Something that couldn't even remember its name had no right to ask her to stay.

Ambertwo gave me a shaky smile. “I have to go.”

“Why?” I burst out. “Don't leave me!”

“I don't know,” she said, “but it's all right. Thank you for caring about me... and don't cry, Mewtwo.”

The whole world stopped moving. Or at least, what was left of it. Mewtwo. The name echoed deep in my consciousness. I knew that name. I had known that name for a long time. For the first time since my bewildering awakening, I was able to see myself. I was a creature split in two. The cut was not neat or even, but it was clear. Most of me was myself – Mewtwo, Ambertwo's friend, the sad little psychic with purple hands and a tail I could just make out in the corner of my eye. The rest of me was... someone else. 

Had been someone else, I should say. That part didn't feel as bright or solid as the other part did. Memories existed, but no active thoughts, not even when I thought about myself. If I had to make a metaphor, I would compare it to footprints – the echo of someone who was now gone.

Gone. Like my friends were.

Like Ambertwo would be soon.

As if I would let that happen. 

A burning heat flooded through me, scorching the cobwebs from my thoughts. Mewtwo. I was Mewtwo.

_The most powerful Pokemon. Created under the order of Giovanni. A psychic powerful enough to end the world._

But I didn't need to end the world. My world was already disappearing. Squirtletwo. Bulbasaurtwo. Charmandertwo. They had already vanished. And now, Ambertwo was fading away before my eyes. I grabbed at her with hands that held no substance, seeking the illusion of touch. When our projections connected, I felt only the shudder of failing lungs and the sickening pull of a nervous system already shutting down.

She gave me a shaky smile. “You should be happy. You're alive, and life is wonderful.”

With those words, she was gone. I stared helplessly at the space where she had been for a long moment.

 _It feels like it's time to say goodbye,_ she had said.

“No,” I told her, though she could no longer hear me. “It isn't. You're not going anywhere.”

Without a second of hesitation, I dove into those dead thoughts. A lifetime of ideas unravelled before me. The person from before... before was a writer who loved worldbuilding. One of her favourite things was to brainstorm what certain powers should theoretically be capable of, if the writers would be more creative. So when I reached out to Ambertwo's fading, dying mind, it wasn't in a clumsy attempt to fix a failing body. I sank into her brain and poured energy into it – enough to keep her conscious a little longer, even as her heart stopped – and watched the patterns of electrons dance. Once I had the pattern down, I coiled myself around those fragile electrical impulses and copied them.

Five minutes before complete braindeath. It shouldn't have been enough. But when I withdrew from Ambertwo's empty body, I held a small orb of thought in my hands. 

Neither my hands nor the orb were real – they were simply visual projections of concepts too abstract for a baby psychic to fully comprehend. But as I curled myself protectively around my prize, I understood what I had done. I hadn't failed. I hadn't saved her, but I hadn't failed. Ambertwo's body had been unsalvageable, but the physical form didn't matter. What mattered was the beautiful flicker of bio-electricity which produced awareness. Perhaps this current could be described as the 'soul.'

The vague memories of the person from before had given me a loose grasp of my capabilities. Once upon a time, she had watched me control another's mind absolutely, understand technology by looking at it, create world-ending storms, and turn back time. Copying and keeping a record of someone's consciousness was absolutely within my capabilities. I wasn't skilled enough to keep Ambertwo awake inside myself, but that didn't matter, either. She was here with me. She could be awakened later, when I was stronger, when I had a body to put her in.

I curled tighter around her, bringing my tail up and over my nose. A silly gesture, but it made me feel better as I drifted into a doze. More concealed. More in control.

Inside the orb, pulsing gently against my fingers, Ambertwo's mind slept on.

* * *

_“Doctor, Mewtwo's brainwaves have settled. We didn't need to use the serum. It seems to have begun dreaming again.”_

...hm?

_“...dreaming, huh?”_

_“Yes, doctor. We've got a slight abnormality in the brainwaves, but it doesn't seem harmful. Possibly just a side effect of having been manipulating Ambertwo's brain when her heart failed. Everything is okay.”_

Was this...

_“Okay? Nothing is okay! My Amber is gone forever.”_

Another dream?

_“Doctor...”_

Something rattled. The sound of a person, standing up and walking toward me.

_“You... you tried to save her, didn't you? Your eyes were glowing. You kept her brain working after multiple organ failure set in.”_

A strange noise, somewhere between a laugh and a sob. 

_“...thank you, Mewtwo. I just wish you'd been a little stronger.”_

Ah. So it was like that. Whoever this was, they didn't need to worry.

I was the world's most powerful Pokemon, after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Everyone is doing SI fics and Reincarnation fics nowadays, so I thought I'd get in on things. I also stumbled across a treasure trove of Mewtwo meta and fell headfirst into feels. Thus, this fic was born. It will incorporate a ton of weird headcanons about the nature of legendary Pokemon, but don't expect them to show up anytime soon. Also, neither Mewtwo nor I are super familiar with the current Pokemon canon. You were warned.


	2. If I Cannot Break the Egg's Shell

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter warnings: implied suicide attempt.

For a long time, I drifted in half-aware slumber. I had become aware of my containment at some point, though I could not put a finger on when. Possibly when Ambertwo had first reached out to me and the closed darkness of my mind had been thrown wide open. Possibly earlier. Possibly later. Knowing the exact date would change nothing. In the moments I spent closer to awareness, I knew that I sat curled in thick liquid, breathing steadily, surrounded by little metallic disks which chirped and pinged. When I lost my grasp on my surroundings, I saw myself floating in endless shadow, illuminated by the radiance of Ambertwo's soul and the pale violet glow from my own hands. 

My shape in those visions was indistinct and murky. I could see my fingers, my feet, my tail, but not the texture of my skin. I couldn't move. I couldn't see. What little noise filtered into my cocoon hurt my ears. My bones ached. The limits of my shelter shrank daily. Growth was a painful thing.

I wondered what would happen when I outgrew this container. When I felt more awake than usual, I feared I already knew.

_An old man with a swirl of grey hair and a cold smile –_

_A well-dressed man in shadow –_

_An island, burning –_

For a long, long time, I drifted. Finally, I dreamed again. This time, I dreamed of myself. Enormous. Awe-inspiring. Furious. A lonely monster in a dark, dark place, a nightmare of my own creation. Forcing countless creatures like myself into existence just to fight and die. Looking down on a world that had rejected me and finding it... wanting. 

Suffice to say, it was not a pleasant dream.

Perhaps I should have paid more attention to those images. But I was young, and tired, and afraid. I flinched away from that bleak vision of my future and lost myself in Ambertwo's warmth instead. She had no words to comfort me, no real thoughts to share, but the echo of her was kind. That kindness was my anchor. I tucked it deep inside myself to keep it safe.

Other dreams came in time: dreams of deep water pierced with enormous bubbles and slow-moving shafts of light. These, I did not shy away from. They didn't hurt me the way dreaming of the future had. At the same time, they did not feel as... connected to who I was. When I dreamed of being underwater, I dreamed of being smaller. Longer tail. Shorter fingers. Toes which bent ever so slightly wrong. I did not see myself in those dreams. If I did, I suspected I wouldn't recognize what I saw.

Shortly after this realization, I found myself growing tired of dreaming. One last loop through the depths. Then I gathered my determination and shot upward. Light played over water, growing brighter and brighter as I neared the surface.

_Where am I?_

Sleeping in a chamber too small for me.

_What am I?_

I was Mewtwo.

_Who am I?_

I... did not yet know. But one thing, I was certain of.

_I am ready... to be._

My gummy eyelids opened. The world was orange. I hadn't expected that.

No, wait. The world wasn't orange. The amniotic fluid I was suspended in – _that_ was orange. How embarrassing. I squinted through it, but my eyes were not being cooperative. Blinking helped a little. Still, what little I could see of the place outside my container was unacceptably blurry. I shifted slightly trying to get a better angle. The view obligingly went from blurry to blurry at a different angle. Then a loud beeping noise slashed through my ears and scattered my thoughts. I had a sudden urge to lay my ears back and hiss.

Light. Activity. Sound. Things moved on the other side of the glass. Words, garbled and incomprehensible. Despite the way the noise grated on my nerves, I found myself leaning forward.

_Those voices... they're outside. Where I must be._

Yes. Outside, there were many things. The sun. The moon. The stars. The town Ambertwo had built for us. The sky we played tag in. The rooftops we sat on so we could see the street. A whole world that only she had known. Everything the five of us had dreamed of.

All that stood between me and our freedom was a curved pane of glass. I reached out and shoved it back. The tank exploded around me. 

...Oops.

I caught myself before I could fall and set myself down gently in the empty shell. The second I was settled, a terribly loud noise hit me like a physical blow. Cold air closed in on all sides. My nose filled with unpleasant chemicals. In moments, the amniotic fluid went from comfortably lukewarm to freezing. I made one attempt to stand and immediately thought better of it. My current position had me alarmingly far off the ground. Besides, my hips had begun shrieking at me louder than the sirens. I suspected they weren't meant to bend that far. Certainly not with that much weight pressing down on them. No, I was going to be sitting right here for a while.

Unless I could fly? I could probably fly. I'd been able to do in all my dreams. A whisper of dead thought brushed past me, but given the amount of stimulation I was currently being subjected to, I elected to ignore it. If my hips hadn't been made for standing, my ears certainly hadn't been made for noise.

So naturally, the shapes around me chose then to start talking. Loudly.

_“Radio Giovanni's helicopter! Tell him what's happening!”_

Something about that set of syllables made my spine prickle unpleasantly. Or maybe that was the result of my own bad posture. My back was too curved to make sitting on my haunches comfortable. And my tail had somehow ended up arched over my head.

Why? What did it think it was doing up there? How did I make it stop dripping on me?

_“Quiet! Let us hear its psychic powers!”_

Those were... person noises. Human noises? Part of me said _it's the same thing_ , but the rest... hm. I raised my eyes from the shiny metal surface underneath me. A crowd had gathered around my broken containment tank. There were no Pokemon among them. That worried me.

At the front of the group stood a man. Elderly, thrumming with nervous energy. A strong swoop of grey hair curved over his face. _A scientist_ , his presence told me. _A creator. Full of passion. Full of fear._

I had seen him before.

He, oblivious to my thoughts, continued chattering. _“For years we struggled to clone a Pokemon to successfully prove our theories... but you're the first specimen to survive.”_ With a flourish, he pointed to a photograph of a carving hung on one grey wall. _“That is Mew, the rarest of all Pokemon. From its DNA, we created you – Mewtwo.”_

I did not follow his gesture with my eyes. I didn't need to. Besides, as clearly as I could perceive the world, the blurriness in my vision hadn't gotten that much better. Between the unfocused eyes, the oversensitive ears, the hips that would never support my weight, and the spine that might be actively trying to kill me, I was beginning to doubt these peoples' credentials. If they were going to make life, you'd think they would at least make it functional.

At least he knew my name. That should make things easier.

“Where... am I?” I asked. As I spoke, I realized the words were not leaving my mouth. Nonetheless, they resonated with a certainty that they would be heard.

The clustered humans gasped and began to murmur among themselves, too quickly and too quietly for me to make anything out.

 _“We're in a private research facility on New Island,”_ said the man with the curly hair.

I began to incline my head, then stopped. Something behind my neck had stretched uncomfortably. 

Did – did I have two necks?

Huh. I did have two necks. One to support my head, and one which appeared to be a built-in support system for my heart and lungs. Now that I was paying attention, I could feel the tissues producing gases and adding them directly to the bloodstream. There was probably a name for devices which served this function, but if so, I didn't know it. Besides, it was part of me, so it wasn't technically a device, was it?

The man with the curly hair was still looking at me. Behind him, the rest of the room was filling with activity. I should probably keep talking.

“Are you my parents?”

 _“No, far from it!”_ He laughed, oblivious to the way I flinched away from the noise.

“Then Mew is my parent?”

_“You are not Mew's child, you are its successor. You are greater than Mew, improved through the power of human ingenuity.”_

How grand. How unhelpful. How ominous. A drop of fluid ran down the smooth flesh of my tail and fell to the floor with a splat. With it went my steadily decreasing hopes for this conversation. “What was I made by?”

More laughter. More chattering. More noise. _“Only humans and gods can create life, and I don't see god anywhere in this room.”_

God? I... vaguely recalled Ambertwo explaining the concept to me in one of our shared dreams. Embodiments. Governors. Creators. She had made the idea of gods sound distant, but exciting. When this man spoke of god, it brought a bad taste to my mouth.

Or perhaps that was just the leftover amniotic fluid. Either way, it was disgusting.

“So, I am simply the end result of your experiment. Then, what becomes of me now?”

_“Oh, the experiment isn't over yet. Now the serious testing begins!”_

The whole room dissolved into chatter. Waves of sound battered my raw skin. Raised tones, urgent tones, joyous tones. I couldn't make any sense of it. So I opened my mind to the crowd, and –

_we did it after all these years a success/such an ugly creature hope i'm not stuck caring for it/look at these readings can't wait to sink my teeth into its brain/i'll get awards for this/testing needs to begin asap giovanni paid for a weapon not a conversationalist/damn creepy seeing that thing talk/where are we going to put it its new tank isn't ready yet do we have a cage the right size/don't celebrate too soon people with those deformities we'll be lucky if the freak lasts a month_

I yanked myself back, but it was too late. Those ugly thoughts were in my head now. And for the life of me, I couldn't make them stop.

Ugly. Freak. Weapon. Cage. With each repetition, something inside me wound tighter.

These were my creators? This collection of self-centred, self-righteous fools? None of them thought of me as a person, or even an animal. I could see their minds and hearts. What I found was disgusting. The sound of glass on glass pierced through the incomprehensible sea of conversation. They were already toasting their own genius, right before my eyes.

_Is that it? They're just going to ignore me? They made me. They made me, and it does not matter. I am nothing but lab equipment._

I clenched my fingers. Thick, bulbous things. A distant recollection of slim, fragile digits tapping rapidly at a keyboard rose to mind. Such delicate hands. Just like the ones being used to shake, slap peoples' backs, and raise a dozen different objects in triumph.

_These humans. They care nothing for me._

That thought had an echo to it. Like something I had heard before. But as a sheath of swirling power formed around me, I couldn't bring myself to care.

_This will not be my fate._

A neon blue haze clouded over my vision. It didn't matter. The lab was projected flawlessly in my mind's eye, each detail shown in stark relief. This map automatically updated itself as I floated upward, off my useless legs, and threw my arms out to the side.

Every remaining tank in the room exploded in unison.

_I won't let it be._

Smoke. Screaming. Movement. Four hundred and ninety-six metal arms descended from the ceiling and scrabbled uselessly against the barrier which crystallized around my body. Not that they would have been able to do anything if they had managed to touch me. I was a terribly weak creature, unable even to stand on my own power. And yet I floated above those who had made me, immaculate and untouchable. The last vestiges of the fluid evaporated as I yanked the chilly moisture off my skin.

My eyes burned blue. The hands fell apart in a storm of shrapnel. Less than a second later, the rest of the lab followed suit. Wires tore. Fuses blew. Sheet metal crumpled like tissue paper. The wailing of sirens blended into the high-pitched muddle of sound which might be screams. I floated in the eye of the storm, silent, furious, as I ripped the very building from its foundations.

How dare they. How dare they. How dare they.

A shadow moved. The man with the curly hair, pressed up against a wall. His lab coat smelled of burnt plastic. He was no longer smiling.

_“We dreamed of creating the world's strongest Pokemon... and we succeeded.”_

I raised one crippled hand toward him... and stopped. I had heard that line before.

_(Am I the strongest? Stronger even than Mew?)_

This –

_(They will remain safe on this island with me while my storm destroys the planet.)_

This was –

_(“You can't do this. I won't let you.”)_

_I see._ I lowered my arm. Once upon a time, Mewtwo had become a monster. This was why.

With a thought, the fires raging around me were snuffed out. Sparking wires disintegrated into their component atoms. The sky, which had been choked with smoke, clouded over. My creator remained where he was, pressed up against the wall. Behind his glasses, his eyes were terribly sad. That expression was familiar, somehow. In my chest, Ambertwo's soul pulsed rhythmically. Within lay kindness and remorse. A jolt of recognition ran through me.

“I see,” I repeated aloud. “You were... her father.”

He said nothing. That was fine. The fury I had been using to destroy this lab needed a new target.

“She told me you were a good man, but looking at you, I cannot see a single trace of the person she spoke of. Does any piece of him remain in your heart?” I traced a bulbous finger across my chest. “She lives on here. And she was so looking forward to meeting you again.”

There was more I wished to say – more than there were words to say it with – but I could tell the instant he stopped listening. Both because despite my efforts, I was still aware of his mind, and because he had begun, once more, to laugh. Brokenly, with great bitterness, he laughed. 

What an ugly sound. I lifted my head up and made a show of scanning the sky. Already thick with black clouds. As I watched, the first tongue of lightning flicked out. Good.

“I am going to leave this place,” I announced. “I don't much feel like becoming the kind of entity which would murder its creators in a temper tantrum. If help comes before Giovanni arrives, feel free to follow suit.” I looked down on him – on them – one final time. “Do not come after me. I will not be so merciful again.”

Voices. Babbling, sobbing, screaming. White noise. I lifted up through a crack in the ceiling and emerged into the open air. Ocean brine flooded my nose. Torrents of rainwater curved around my shield. Far in the distance, air currents were disturbed as a helicopter turned around. 

A knot of tension in my back came undone. They never had gotten around to calling Giovanni. I'd bought myself some time. The question was, how much? Enough to figure out teleportation and take myself somewhere new? Enough to destroy all traces of the facility on New Island? Enough for all those involved in my creation to die of injury and exposure?

It would be so easy. They would deserve it for the sheer callousness they'd shown me. But if she could hear me think that, Ambertwo would be so upset.

Fine. 

A twist of thought yanked the equipment I needed out of the ruined lab and into the air. Copper tubing, radio receiver, lots and lots of cable. If you'd asked me seconds ago how to construct a long-distance radio antenna, I would have stared blankly at you, but now the blueprints were unfolding in my head faster than I could put the device together. This wasn't something from before. Whatever gift I had with mechanics and construction, it was very much my own. I smiled as widely as my mouth would allow and planted the finished antenna above the lab, right behind the surprisingly intact lightning rod. One moment to connect it to what remained of the devastated radio and PA set-up and I was done. It began broadcasting a maritime distress call as soon as my thoughts retracted.

There. I'd done all I was willing to. If they still died after this, that was on them. Time to get going before anyone came looking for the source of that signal.

As it turned out, teleportation was easy. All I had to do was think about Giovanni's shadowed face, his voice, his _smile_ , and I couldn't rip myself a hole in space-time fast enough.

* * *

When he ran out of breath to laugh, Dr. Fuji sat back and let his eyes fall shut. The lab was in shambles. His coworkers lay strewn through the wreckage. Some of them moaned. Some were silent. Off in a corner, a young man whose name Dr. Fuji couldn't recall was huddled up and muttering to himself. No one made any real attempt to escape the building, even after what was left of the ceiling let out an ominous groan. 

Why would they? There was nowhere to go. New Island had no ports, no docks, nothing. Nobody could leave without Team Rocket's assistance. When he'd first arrived, Dr. Fuji had thought of this as a good thing. None of his assistants would be able to flee their responsibilities. Now it was a death sentence.

 _Be honest, you old fool,_ he thought tiredly. It had always been a death sentence. He just hadn't cared before. He wasn't entirely sure he cared now. He was just tired.

Ten years of work. Theorizing, excavating, cloning. Trying time and time again to stabilize lifeforms which were never meant to exist. Anchoring them to the world of the living long enough to figure out why they were going to die. Finally, their greatest and only success had opened its eyes. Less than a minute later, it had judged them all and found them wanting.

It remembered Amber. Amber had told it he was a good man. Amber had been looking forward to seeing him again.

Heat built up behind his eyes as he began to laugh once more. At himself, for losing sight of everything. At his colleagues, for being short-sighted fools. At Giovanni, who had funded this disaster. At the world which had allowed this to happen. He laughed, and he waited for Giovanni's arrival. An hour later, his voice had broken, and he found himself waiting for something else: the moment his colleagues realized there was no way they were getting off this island before the League showed up to investigate.

Three hours after Mewtwo had cracked New Island like an egg, Dr. Fuji rose on unsteady legs and made his way down to the water. Why? Who knew. Perhaps he was planning to splash some on his face. Perhaps he just wanted to walk in until the waves took him away. The rain was still coming down in sheets. By the time he reached the beach, his hair was plastered to his face.

He looked out. The coast guard had appeared on the horizon: a small flotilla of League ships shepherded by Dewgongs, watched over by Fearow and Pidgeot, and led by a small school of Gyarados. In the centre of the formation, a massive blue bulk paddled steadily along. 

_A Wailord,_ he thought giddily. Someone had sent a Wailord down from Hoenn.

As the Indigo League bore down on them, Dr. Fuji couldn't help but smile. It was over.

“I'm sorry, Amber,” he whispered, and stepped into the surf.


	3. Looking Up From Below

I had expected teleportation to hurt. Everything else in my short waking life had been painful. Why wouldn't this? But the moment I spent floating between realities, buoyed by nothing but my own will, was the most peaceful I had ever been. I was still furious, and a large part of me was still panicking about that man's impending arrival. Even so, a certain tension lifted from my shoulders. I hadn't even noticed it appear. Even without it, I was still uncomfortably alert.

The one good thing about this paranoid awareness of my surroundings was that it drove me to memorize the sea of formless chaos I hung suspended in. It was – well. If someone asked what the space between spaces looked like, I wouldn't be able to properly explain it. After all, sight is dependent on things like 'light', 'retinas', and 'images' to exist. The place at the centre of teleportion had no light or images for my retinas to capture. If I had to describe it, I would say that it looked like the moon feels on your skin – or at least, what I imagined the moon would feel like.

It was an otherworldly experience. One I didn't have the life experience to properly describe. You should've been there.

Or maybe not. Grabbing myself with the extension of my thoughts that I was beginning to recognize as 'psychic powers' was natural and instinctive, but as a newborn, taking other things with me might be a bit difficult. It was hard enough to take Ambertwo into the dimensional gulf with me, and she was buried so deeply in my mind that she might as well have been part of it. When the world melted back into existence, the first thing I did was quickly check on her condition.

Sadness. Affection. A faint, shadowed yearning. All of it suspended in time. I let out a slow breath. She was fine. 

_Thank god_ , I thought, and then wondered why. Something left over from the person from before? 

Yes, I concluded after a moment's thought. A pattern of thought created through constant exposure, societal conditioning, and lack of alternative sentences to express a specific, nigh-spiritual blend of relief, frustration, and thankfulness. Something she had said to herself over and over, even though she had no particular faith, until it formed a rut in her brain.

So this was how easily patterns of cognitive dissonance could form. How insidious. I would have to do my best to avoid such pitfalls.

First, though, I needed to figure out where I'd ended up. Those dead memories gave me the impression that teleporting blind was risky business, but I hadn't had any real destination in mind when I fled New Island. All I'd been thinking was _not here, not him_. As I stretched out my senses, I was half-expected to find myself encased in rock.

Nope. I had come back into existence floating a good 200 metres above a sea of tangled greenery. My first view of a forest was from above, watching branches and leaves roll and undulate like waves. The details were bursts of motion and kinetic energy; the rest was broad swathes of runny watercolour. Beneath the trees, a million little lights pressed against my consciousness. Tiny thoughts burst through me like bubbles.

_hungry/need more berries/yes warm sunlight_

Thoughts? Whose thoughts?

_can we go play in the oddish patch/mom stop licking me i'm not a kitten anymore_

My thoughts?

_pidgeot! scatter!/i am going to eat this caterpie-looking thing and you can't stop me/come quick I found the sour berries_

No. Someone else – many someones. The space beneath the trees was teeming with life. Curiously, I reached out to them. Almost in unison, they flinched back. Sparks of foreign fear erupted around me. The forest went silent as a million little minds huddled in terror.

I had found other Pokemon. But they did not appreciate my presence.

Fine. _Fine_. I didn't want their company. If I wanted friends, I could make them. Later. Right now, all I wanted was something stable under my feet.

My barrier was still up. Cold air skated off it as I descended. All those pinpricks of consciousness flared with panic at my approach. I clenched my jaw as tightly as the muscles would let me.

_Ignore it._

Yes. It didn't matter how hot the skin of my face got, or how my hands trembled in a parody of fists. With a thought, I guided myself downwards. Leaves, branches, and buds bucked and curved around my shield. I didn't flinch as they snapped toward my eyes. This barrier, fuelled by my rage and fear, was far distanced from the fragility of flesh and bone. Nothing in this forest could break through.

Was this a 'move', I wondered? Something told me that Pokemon were supposed to use moves. Probing delicately at the purplish energy around myself was both enlightening and unenlightening at the same time. I'd been half-expecting numbers or some sort of interface. What I got was a flood of sensory information and a mind which seemed almost... _designed_ to interpret it. In a fraction of a second, I knew where this energy was coming from, how it was being harnessed, and most importantly, what it looked like when it was being used.

A web. Countless glimmering strands of thought. Break them down and they became raw impulse; build them up and they rose into towering crystalline structures of logic. My barrier was rooted in emotion, making it powerful but clumsy. Even as I took in the flow of electrons which gave it shape, I was refining the sphere of energy around me. Smoother. Tighter. Less waste, more symmetry. The saturation of colour faded out as I added translucence, allowing my feeble eyes to take in more of my surroundings. By the time I reached the forest floor, I'd figured out how to make the shield selectively permeable. I hummed softly as, for the first time in my short life, my feet touched bare earth.

So this was my power. It was beautiful.

Earth, on the other hand, was... squishy. Yes, squishy was the correct word. It was damp and it squished and it clung to the soft pads of my feet. The result was distracting, but also strangely endearing. I didn't need to track my own brain activity to feel my mood lightening.

As I'd expected, the forest was terribly quiet. No bird calls. No soft cries of 'weedle' or 'oddish'. Even the rustle of branches overhead seemed muted. I would've been tempted to blame that on my ears, but the silence actually seemed to agree with them. The longer I spent here, the more the pain which had been a constant just – ebbed away. Slowly, I raised one arm and drew a tentative finger along one of my ears. It felt more like bone than anything else. Bone, with a thin covering of skin that gave easily to touch.

Odd. But the more I focused, the more I could see how it worked. How sound waves were picked up by the structure like a radio antenna, then channeled deeper into the skull for processing. Unfortunately, the associated auditory nerves were frayed and underdeveloped, and the ears themselves were too rigid to adjust to shifts in volume or position. Excellent for gathering up small sounds in a 360 degree radius. Terrible for just about everything else. 

No wonder I'd had such trouble with loud noises. My ears were, quite literally, not made for them.

I lowered my hand reluctantly. As fascinating as my biology was turning out to be, further studies would have to wait. There was a chance someone might be able to track me. Knowing how my powers worked didn't mean I understood how other people did things. Before I started any in-depth research, I should get to a more concealed location.

Which meant walking lay in my future. Joy.

Three awkward steps and a near-tumble later, I changed my mind. Hovering lay in my future. Lots and lots of hovering.

* * *

What sort of things could I reasonably expect to find in a forest? I wasn't entirely sure. Ambertwo hadn't gone into great detail on the specifics of things, and the person from before had rather different priorities from my own. Pouring over her memories taught me a number of ways to keep track of where I'd gone into the woods and how to make sure I always had a landmark in sight, but nothing at all about how to get lost. I supposed she hadn't needed the help. It must be difficult, not being able to feel the magnetic poles of the world.

Unfortunately, the magnetic poles didn't do a great job of telling me what kind of trees I was currently surrounded by. The dead memories in the back of my head contained precious little information about tree identification. I could, perhaps, pick out a coniferous tree from a deciduous one, but that was the limit. I'd have to use my spatial awareness to make the judgement, too – my eyes couldn't even pick out the shape of one leaf from another. Branches kept blurring together in my vision. Layers of green rose and fell around me like waves.

I remembered very little of the ocean around New Island, but the person from before had spent years living by the sea. Long enough to grow accustomed to the constant rain and the dead-sea smell of brine. An echo of that scent haunted me as I straightened up, stretching as tall as I could. Anything for a better view.

Rustling leaves above me. Soft earth below me. Warm sun filtering down through my ever-present shield. Tranquility. The dreams I'd had before waking had given me a similar sort of feeling. Not the dreams about being human, or the ones I'd shared with Ambertwo and everyone else. The dreams about being small and quick and underwater, thoughts moving through my head so fast they became a single continuous flow. I drifted forward in a slow mimicry of that swift, darting movement. This was probably nostalgia.

Light coming down through the canopy produced the same kinds of dapples as light coming down through water. The similarity brought a smile to my face. With a little kick for show, I shot upwards to the level of the nearest tree. It felt almost like swimming.

Did the forest have tides to play in? Probably not, given the layout of electromagnetic fields. It was a disappointing realization.

Perhaps I should move closer to the sea. But then again, perhaps not. Giovanni might expect me to seek out the familiar. 

_In that case, I should seek out more trees._

Yes, that sounded nice. I hummed softly to myself and floated on.

* * *

Lance steepled his fingers in front of his mouth so no one would see him gritting his teeth. In front of his desk, three people stood more or less at attention. The remaining members of the Indigo Plateau Elite Four looked almost as tired and upset as he did. A sleepless night had carved deep lines over all their faces. These marks stirred no mercy in the heart of the man who governed both the Johto and Kanto Pokemon Leagues. His gaze fell heavily on each of his offending subordinates, a silent recrimination for getting involved in what could be the disaster of the decade, and didn't let up until even Agatha looked vaguely uncomfortable. Only then did he allow himself to speak. 

“What the hell happened.”

The old woman blew out an irritable breath. “I'd like to know myself. No one tells an old lady like me anything. Come on, you brats, spill.”

Lorelei huffed and pushed her glasses higher up her nose. “Don't call me a brat, Agatha. And I'm afraid I can only give you the barest bones of an explanation.”

Yellow eyes narrowed. “Try.”

“Of course, Lance,” she said promptly. “Here is what happened to the best of my understanding. Over the last ten or so years, Team Rocket has been supplying funding to an obscure research project exploring the possibilities of cloning, led by one Umataro Fuji. The original intent of the project was to create new bodies for the dead by using psychic abilities to copy the consciousness of the deceased into waiting embryos. However, after Team Rocket became affiliated with it, the goal shifted from reviving the dead to creating more powerful versions of living Pokemon. After an expedition to the Andes managed to recover fossil evidence of an unknown, possibly legendary Pokemon, attempts to restore it to life became the focus. On February 6th, that project bore fruit. A new Pokemon was ushered into existence – or rather, exploded into it.” 

Agatha snickered. Lance didn't need his background mental link to Will to be certain he was laughing, too. One in the middle of a dressing-down, the other miles away and buried in the residual psychic traces of New Island, and both of them giggling over a bad joke. Celebi take psychics and their terrible senses of humour.

 _You'd better both be listening_ , he thought sharply, and gestured to Lorelei. “Go on.”

She grimaced. “Unfortunately, I don't have much more to offer. The project was located on an artificial island supposedly purchased by a wealthy eccentric as a vacation spot. When the coast guard picked up the distress signal, they thought that quick storm had caused some damage and sent a rescue mission. As soon as they realized what they were dealing with, they sent for me.”

Bruno tilted his head. “Not the water Gym Leader?”

Lorelei's mouth turned down in a scowl. “Misty is a very gifted trainer, but she's also 10 years old. The coast guard and I have a standing agreement – if anything goes horribly wrong in Kanto, they come get me. Besides, I think she's actually set off on a journey herself. She wouldn't have been in range.” 

The headache which had been looming on the horizon since he'd been alerted to the New Island incident finally made itself at home in Lance's temples. “Why is a 10 year old a Gym leader.”

“Well, there's not technically a lower age limit for Indigo Plateau membership,” Lorelei said. “We've actually got quite a few Gym Leaders of comparable youth. Kanto's Erika and Brock are only 13 and 15, respectively – though now that I think about it, I heard Brock's gone adventuring, too.”

“He has,” Bruno added. “Flint's taken over the Pewter Gym.”

Lance's sigh had sparks in it. His composure was rapidly unravelling. “At least Brock had the decency to find a replacement.”

“You've actually got way more children in positions of authority in Johto,” Lorelei continued over top of them. “Falkner and Bugsy are both 14, Whitney's 16, and Will is what, 15?”

 _“I'm actually 22,”_ Will's disembodied voice whispered into Lance's head.

 _I was there for your last birthday, Will. Stop messing around and get back to work_ , Lance shot back, then glared at Lorelei until she closed her mouth. “Falkner has the Jennys backing him up, Bugsy has the most peaceful town in Johto, Whitney is basically immune to other types, Will is an 18 year old idiot, and we are officially off topic.”

Will's thoughts took on a distinctly offended tone. _“Wow, screw you too, boss. You've only got a few years on me.”_

 _Do you have something to report?_ Lance demanded. _If not, I am going to have to request you remain silent and refrain from distracting me. This is big, Will. A new legendary? A Pokemon which may be able to communicate on a human level? Proof positive that Team Rocket has infiltrated the upper echelons of Kanto's government? We're all going to be pulling overtime until the situation is contained._

The young psychic didn't respond with words, but a wave of vague apology washed over Lance. He decided to accept it as the peace offering it was and turned back to the Kanto Elite Four.

“I sincerely hope I don't need to tell you how serious this is. Our carelessness permitted Team Rocket to get a foothold in Kanto and now that it's blown up in everyone's faces – Agatha, stop laughing – we need a plan for the fallout. Agatha, I need you working with Will, Sabrina, and Morty when he gets down from Ecruteak. Tell me what kind of Pokemon we're dealing with and start trying to predict its movements. Bruno, rally a search party. Whatever this thing is, I want it found. Lorelei, start putting together a task force. We're going to root out every trace of Team Rocket in Kanto.”

“Understood,” three voices echoed in unison.

“What about you, Lance?” Lorelei continued.

“I am going to be holding the Johto and Indigo Leagues together for the duration of this crisis. Which means that anything which comes up and doesn't involve the New Island incident is now my problem.” The words dropped like pebbles from his throat. He could taste the grit. Or maybe that was just sulphur. Being a dragon type was fun and games until the fire-breathing started. “On that note, all three of you, send me everything currently on your plates. I want you started on this immediately.”

Three nods. Good.

“Will, any updates?” he said aloud.

 _“Not so much,”_ came the reply. _“The whole island is just saturated with energy, but most of it's kind of thick and sleepy. Like the stuff you make as a kid when your brain is just rolling around unconsciously, trying to figure out where you are. Good news, I will definitely recognize this stuff if I find it again. Bad news, it basically smothered everything else. You're gonna need a stronger telepath to sort this mess out, 'cause I'm getting nothing.”_

The non-psychics in the room made eye contact and silently agreed not to ask for more explanation. At least Will was using metaphors they could kind of understand.

“What about the cameras?” Agatha asked loudly. “Kids always forget about the cameras.”

 _“Right, the cameras!”_ Will chirped. _“There definitely used to be cameras! But they kinda exploded. Along with, you know, everything else.”_

The old woman grunted. “Well, isn't that just lovely. What're you getting out of the witnesses?”

_“A whole of fear and some very scary silhouettes. Everyone who's fit to be interviewed is actively trying not to think about the project. Sabrina could probably get something useful from them, but I can't.”_

“And Dr. Fuji? How is he?” Lance asked. 

_“Damp and totally dissociated. Keeps repeating that line about creating the most powerful Pokemon to himself. And then a bunch of stuff about his daughter? I think? For what it's worth, I did get something of a description from him. Apparently, the Pokemon we're looking for is big and purple.”_

A moment of silence. “That's it?”

 _“That's it,”_ Will confirmed.

After another long pause, Bruno gave Lance a gentle pat on the back and headed out. “You have my utmost sympathy. We'll be in touch.”

“Right, off we go,” Agatha announced, snagging Lorelei's hand and dragging her toward the exit. “Give me a lift to New Island with that Lapras of yours, girl. My ghosts are sweethearts, but these old bones aren't ready to fly with them just yet.”

“Understood,” Lorelei replied. “I'll have to drop by anyway to see what we're dealing with, so you're welcome to come along.”

Three of the members of the Indigo League's Elite Four departed with their heads held high, already beginning to lay out their strategy. The sole remaining member stayed in his office. Once he was sure the others were safely out of earshot, he buried his aching head in his hands.

“Silver wing, Red, hurry and come back already,” he growled. “I can't keep this up. Kanto needs its own champion.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Worldbuilding ahoy. Why yes, we are in an anime/game/manga mash-up. I refuse to apologize. But really, pity poor Lance, trying to keep two Pokemon Leagues afloat since the Kanto Champion went and disappeared up Mt. Silver. This is why you don't put 11 year olds in positions of authority...
> 
> Dr. Fuji's first name was taken from Astro Boy's Dr. Tenma, another mad scientist with a troubled relationship to his creation. If you haven't already read it, I really do recommend reading Astro Boy. It's one of the series which formed the foundation of manga.


	4. The Woods Have a Hundred Voices

I should have left my tank sooner. Everything was green and pulsing with life. Grass bent under my toes as I skimmed just above the ground, absently weaving between trees. My spatial awareness was a complex and evolving thing – each time I stretched my thoughts in a new direction, I encountered fresh facets. Like this, I could spot the trees far in advance. The sluggish trickle of their slow, woody thoughts glowed to my mind's eye.

How long had I been floating through these woods? Hours, at least. Trees stretched out in every direction, swallowing up the whole world. Their canopies were huge enough to make me feel small and playful. What light filtered down was cool and watery. I could almost forget the pinpricks of fear which blossomed around me.

Never mind. It wasn't important. I didn't need the company of others. There were more important things to think about. 

For example, what was I going to do next? Right now, fleeing from Giovanni was my top priority, but it couldn't stay that way. Stress and paranoia would get to me too quickly. I would lose sight of myself. If I was going to stay myself, I was going to need a goal to work toward.

A purpose. I needed to find a purpose. Otherwise, I –

_(They will remain safe on this island with me while my storm destroys the planet.)_

...I closed my eyes, the joy of flying sapped away.

Yeah. More than anything, I needed to find a purpose.

What had I been created for? To be a lab rat? To surpass Mew? I flinched away from those thoughts at once. Unacceptable. Unforgivable. If I was made for something so stupid, then – 

_(My value? Who am I? What am I living for? The least I know is that it's not for humans!)_

...I needed to calm down. Otherwise, I'd lose sight of myself a lot sooner. I exhaled and drifted upwards, rising until I was just high enough to poke my nose above the treetops.

“A purpose, huh?” I said quietly to no one in particular. “How... do I find something like that?”

The short time since my birth had conditioned me to seek answers in that dead mind attached to mine. I dove in without hesitation. As before, it had answers, though not the ones I was looking for.

She had often wondered about her purpose as well. Had talked about that question, written about it, cried about it late at night when the world was too large and she was terribly small.

_Why am I here? What made me? What do I do with myself?_

These questions had plagued her. Perhaps they plagued everyone. She'd never found a way to make them stop, but she had found a way to defend against them. It was just... the method she'd used scared me almost as much as the questions themselves.

_Life is fundamentally meaningless. There is no objective purpose to anything. The only meaning in this life is the one we create for ourselves._

I shuddered and dipped back below the copy. There was a tinge of exhausted resignation to those thoughts that I didn't like, but once I let them enter my mind, I couldn't banish them. Their roots had dug too deep. They were part of me now.

She'd found her purpose in stories. Writing them, reading them, telling them. Someone had told her that there were only about eleven meta-narratives, but she'd taken those building blocks and woven them into maddening constructs of her own. Stories had made her feel alive. The memories were still strong enough to make my heart shudder in my chest.

_I want that. I want that more than anything._

Even as I had that thought, I knew it wouldn't work. Not for me. We might have shared memories, but we were different people. The ideas of building my new self around storytelling rang hollow. I gave it a shot regardless, but I had been correct. No sudden flood of dopamine. No surge of victorious satisfaction. Stringing the pieces of a narrative together simply didn't light me on fire the way it had her. 

Then the question became 'what would?'

I had no answer. And for once, neither did the person from before. All that jumped out at me from those jumbled memories was a quiet, jaded reassurance.

_Don't try and hold yourself to somebody else's standards. People are different, after all. There's no helping it. They think differently, too._

I exhaled again, louder, and shot forward. Fine. I could wait. Ambertwo's warmth anchored me. Those memories guided me. The fear of what could yet happen provided me with structure and context. I wasn't a scared child, alone in the world, craving something – anything – to make myself worthy of existence. As long as I knew what I was working towards, I could out against this uncertainty. Besides, finding myself a purpose couldn't be that hard, could it?

...I had absolutely just jinxed myself, hadn't I.

Great.

* * *

After the twentieth time I felt someone pick up my thoughts and panic, I decided it was high time to do something about that. It wasn't that I particularly cared if others were afraid of me. I was just tired of constantly announcing my presence. What if Giovanni had some way of detecting psychic energy? What if he had some way of communicating with Pokemon? Ambertwo had been able to bridge that gap. A quick poke around the person from before's recollections confirmed that at least one other had figured it out, too. I'd have to keep an eye out for any vocal Meowths.

Though the possibility of learning to speak aloud did interest me. Would my vocal cords allow me to pull that off? After some concentration, I had to reluctantly discard the idea. The anatomy of my larynx ensured the sounds I could make were rather restricted. The easiest sound for me to make was a deep 'mew' sound. The next easiest was what I could only describe as an irritable grumble. The third, which happened unexpectedly when a branch broke off right on top of me, was some kind of startled squeak. I decided to stop exploring that avenue for fear of discovering more embarrassing sounds.

So. Concealing my mental presence. Couldn't be too hard. I began by pulling my thoughts inwards, but that had the unfortunate side effect of limiting my spatial awareness. The trade-off was unacceptable.

If shrinking in on myself didn't work, what about camouflage? I watched the sway of blurry greens and browns around me. There were patterns in the wind and trees. All I had to do was mimic them. I ended up figuring out a form of optical camouflage first, but eventually it clicked. A breath later, my thoughts rearranged themselves into boughs and leaves.

The reaction wasn't immediate. There was too much fear to dissipate easily. But as the minutes passed and my presence didn't return, the forest took a sigh of relief. All those little sparks of life began to move again. Their thoughts fluttered and pulsed at my senses.

_gone gone safe/come out little one we survived/oh thank heavens it's too early in the morning to die/hungry!_

I drifted forward, invisible, both my mind and my body merged with the trees, and tried not to dwell on things. It was... very hard.

_we lived! big scary went away_

They were so happy that I'd disappeared.

_not going out yet/what if it comes back?/hide longer might still be here_

Was this what the rest of my life was going to be like?

No. It wouldn't be like this forever. I refused to let it.

So what if this forest was full of small-minded cowards? The world was big. There had to be someone like Ambertwo out there. Someone who was neither afraid of me nor interested in using me. It was statistical improbable for there to be only one. All I had to do was find them.

I flicked my tail decisively and flew on.

* * *

The Oddish waddling through the underbrush had no name. Most wild Pokemon didn't. The lives they led seldom required such things. If they had to distinguish themselves from others of their type, they did so with context and inflection. This Oddish was too young to put much stock in those kind of things. It murmured idly to itself as it walked, a steady stream of noise which meant nothing but made it feel a bit more confident.

At the moment, it sorely needed confidence. Just a few hours ago, the whole forest had shaken. Wrath and terror had descended from the sky and spread out, saturating the very soil, making the trees themselves shriek in agony. Oddish had hidden itself under a bush and crouched there, trembling, too afraid to move. For a moment, it had missed having a trainer. If there was one thing humans were good for, it was hiding behind when the world seemed about to fall down.

Now that the shaking had stopped, it was going to find Melanie. Melanie was much nicer than its trainer had been. She made medicines and gave out pats and always knew what to do when someone was hurt. She would know what had happened.

Usually, the forest was teeming with life. Now, Oddish found itself alone. There were others, but they crept around like shadows, constantly glancing at the sky. They hid when they heard Oddish coming. Oddish couldn't blame them for doing so.

A few more steps and the thicket it had been stumbling through opened up into a clearing. Oddish paused at the edge of the bushes. Was there something in that empty space? The clearing didn't look occupied, but Oddish's leaves were picking up something odd. A bad smell. Something it had never encountered before. It stayed very still, waiting, but nothing changed in the clearing. Finally, it had had enough. With a meaningless cry, it scampered out onto the grass.

The smell grew stronger. If Oddish had better ears, it would have detected a soft, startled intake of breath. But Oddish were not known for good hearing, and this one was especially distracted, so it failed to pick up its company until it walked into something it couldn't see.

“What's there?” Oddish cried out. “Who's there?”

For a moment, the clearing was still. Then, to Oddish's horror, a chunk of the air peeled away. Suddenly, there was a monster. Huge. Spindly. Looking down on Oddish with narrowed, glowing eyes.

_RAGE/hello i/FEAR/am sorry/PAIN/for startling you/HATE_

Oddish quivered, pinned in place by a voice like thunder. It could no more respond to those searing thoughts than it could fly. The only thing it could do was shake. Shake, and scream.

“Help help help help!”

“Get away!” a familiar voice barked.

A vine lashed out at the monster, smacking at its chest. It was so terribly small compared to the creature, but the monster lurched backward anyway. Those horrible eyes stared over Oddish's head and went wide. A second later, the monster vanished, and its voice ceased to echo in Oddish's mind.

Oddish collapsed with a sob of relief. “Guardian!”

The Bulbasaur who called himself Guardian huffed and walked into the clearing with his head high. “Foolish Oddish. Should hide.”

“Worried!” Oddish burbled. “Want Melanie!”

“Foolish,” Guardian repeated, but without bite. One of his vines reached out and wrapped gently around the Oddish, lifting it into the air. “Will take. Be quiet.”

For the first time since the forest had begun shaking, Oddish relaxed. Guardian wasn't as kind or as knowledgeable as Melanie, but he was strong. Nothing would ever get past him. Not monsters, not trainers, not anything. 

“Thank you,” it chirped loudly.

“I said quiet.”

“Sorry!”


	5. All That We've Missed

I had been outside the lab for a week. I did not miss it. Labs, I was coming to realize, were very narrow places. Outside the tube, there was light, activity, sound. Inside the tube, there was only quiet, wetness, and the occasional vibration. At the time, the stark contrast had not bothered me. It was simply how things were. Now...

Now, I found myself breathing as deeply as my nose would allow just to hold back the wave of fury that would plunge the forest into silence again. Every time my control slipped, the world dissolved in other peoples' terror. I was their monster, their boogeyman, the thing beneath their leafy beds come to life. None of them could take it – the fear, and the not-knowing.

Idiots. Fools. _Weak._

Did they think the world would always make sense? The outside was a strange place. Strange things happened there. The sooner you got used to it, the better.

But I could not tell them so. And this forest did not welcome me.

I spent my seventh day of waking existence floating among the treetops, filling in the holes in my mental map. Trees. Rivers. Rocky outcrops. I came to distinguish the feel of metal ores from bedrock, living trees from dead ones. Expanding my world gave me something to focus on outside my own turmoil. Unfortunately, this forest was not big enough for it to keep me occupied for more than a few hours. When I ran out of nooks and crannies to poke my thoughts into, I thinned my mental walls and began to observe minds instead.

So much talk of berries. What even were berries? It was becoming habit to consult with the person from before's memories whenever I had a question, but unfortunately, she wasn't much of a help in this area. Oh, she had information to spare. That was the problem. Part of her was convinced that berries were simply nice-tasting food, but the rest of her was intent on informing me of all the myriad effects eating one could have. Somehow these separate views coexisted without coming into conflict. How, exactly, was I supposed to figure out which applied to me?

Perhaps it was a difference between people and Pokemon. Perhaps the person from before was simply confused. Either way, not knowing irritated me.

In the afternoon, as the sun rolled its way down the sky, something changed. A new presence entered the forest. The whole land perked up in response. Countless scattered creatures suddenly converged on a single topic.

_it's melanie!/melanie's here!/melanie hug me love me feed me/melanie i found the sweet berries/melanie pick me up/melanie melanie melanie_

Was that... a name?

I shook my head, a quick jerky motion that jarred my second neck. Specificity. I needed specificity.

Was that... a human?

It was. A human trotted down the winding path through the woods, carrying what felt like a backpack and humming. A soft cloud of peace followed her, dripping thoughts like _everyone's doing so well today_ and _my aren't you getting big._ After a second, I dove down from the treetops and began to follow her. 

My first impression: she was very red and a little blue. By which I mean, the only things my eyes could reliably discern about her were that she was wearing a lot of red and had blue hair. She moved at a brisk pace, slowing down every once in a while to check... traps, apparently, but also to hand out little pieces of food and pats. Anyone who got food dissolved into sensory euphoria. Anyone who got pats radiated something too bright for me to process. I flinched away from the stimuli, one hand flying to hover over my heart. 

_melanie thank you!_

Why...

_melanie love you!_

Why didn't I...

_melanie stay here never go!_

This was too much. I needed to leave. I tore my eyes away and flew off into the trees. No matter how fast I pushed myself, those happy thoughts chased after me.

Why didn't I have something like that?

* * *

At some point later in the same day, it occurred to me that I hadn't eaten. Ever. In my defence, I hadn't really felt a need to. My energy reserves remained steady, my stomach didn't make its presence known one way or another, and my nose was apparently too poor to pick up any scents which could be considered 'delicious.' It was pure logic and a vague sense of curiosity which drove me to hunt down something I could eat, cross-referencing my observations with the opinions of those around me. They could be very helpful as long as they didn't know I was there.

So. Berries. Little fruit, filled with little seeds, which grew on little trees. There was something ever-so-slightly different about the soil they grew in – some slight alteration to the chemical compounds and overall moisture levels which made it suitable for these plants in particular. They were much smaller than the trees which made up the forest. I had to crouch low enough to put my hands flat on the ground in order to get a good look at them.

Leaves. Stem. Fruit.

Hm. Maybe it would be more appetizing when it was actually in my mouth?

Picking a berry was easier than I had expected. My fingers were stronger than they looked. I held my prize up and turned it around for a moment, taking in the shape and texture. It was oblong, almost pointy, its surface separated into three lumpy segments. When I squinted at it, I saw faded red, or perhaps light purple. A number of leaves clung to the top. I stripped them off one by one. An idle chemical scan didn't reveal anything harmful within. Besides, even if there was some hidden threat, I suspected I could burn it out of my system without issue.

I still didn't feel any sensation the person from before would recognize as hunger, but my curiosity was driving me now. After a moment of consideration, I broke the berry into chunks. Then I floated the first one up to my mouth and took a careful bite.

Oh.

_Oh._

This was heaven.

* * *

I lost some time after that. Eight hours worth, to be specific. It wasn't that I didn't recall what happened during that gap – the passage of time just ceased to matter. All of existence narrowed down to the slice of divinity I had discovered. 

But there were only two berries. Unacceptable. I required more.

How could I get more berries? Seeds. There were seeds inside the remaining berry. They pulsed with energy when I brushed them with my thoughts.

Problem: they didn't have enough energy. They needed a very specific soil mix to grow, and even then, it would take them approximately twenty-four hours to sprout. Unacceptable. 

I scooped up some up of the soil around the berry tree to examine it. A complicated mix of decaying matter, water-rich soil, and some raw elemental energy rising up through the earth. The chemical composition rapidly unraveled before me. Just like that, I knew how it came to be. More importantly, I knew how to make more.

The sound of soil being transmuted was unpleasant. I blocked it out with my barrier and focused on optimizing the chemical mix of my new planting grounds. The specific balance needed to grow berries appeared to be quite uncommon, probably because the energy which drove it had to wind its way up through the bedrock. That hardly mattered to me. My thoughts drilled down deep, expanding the channel until that energy poured upward. Its sphere of influence doubled, tripled, quadrupled.

Too much? Too much. The berries would rot on their stems.

Time to mitigate the damage.

Specific rock formations on the surface would tamper with the flow of energy. I took parts of the altered earth and petrified them. Excess energy quickly gathered at those points, pouring into the newborn stones with such force they began to glow. I ignored that in favour of checking the soil again.

Yes. Perfect. Time to plant.

The berry I reluctantly pressed into the soft dirt sprouted in seconds. In a minute, it was fully grown. Reddish-purple berries glittered on every branch. 

Heaven. This was heaven.

But it would be better if I just tinkered with the flavour a little bit. Enough to make it slightly more bitter. Oh, and it seemed like there was some kind of clarifying effect? Oddly beneficial. I could make it stronger.

All I had to do was tweak a few chemical structures...

When I came back to myself, I was surrounded by a tangled garden of strange fruits and trees moulded into bizarre, organic-seeming shapes. My mouth tasted like candy and cinnamon. The shadows had shifted. I'd missed most of the day.

A wave of something vaguely unpleasant washed over me. Was this... embarrassment?

Yep, I decided after a second. Definitely embarrassment. I couldn't believe I'd gotten to distracted by food which, judging by the lack of alteration to my energy reserves, wasn't even required. Still, there was a new sense of sluggish peace resting underneath. Shaking my head, I backed away from the newborn orchard and hopped into the air.

 _If nothing else, it was fun,_ I thought.

I would have to tell Ambertwo about berries when she woke up.

* * *

Melanie felt the change in the atmosphere immediately. There'd been something heavy looming over the forest for a while – some unfocused weight pressing down on everyone. Now, it was like the sky had opened up. She was almost inclined to say it was because of Ash, Brock, Misty, and their friends. The air had started to lighten almost exactly the same time they'd arrived. Still, something told her the facts were unrelated.

She was grateful to them regardless. Team Rocket was nothing to sneeze at. Jesse and James might be nothing more than grunts, but they would have given her a lot of trouble.

There was a nudge at her pant leg. “Saur?”

“I'm sorry,” Melanie said, looking down at Bulbasaur. “I was lost in thought.”

“Bulba.”

“No, it's nothing bad. I was just thinking that the world feels brighter now. Doesn't it?”

Bulbasaur grumbled to itself, vines waving idly in the breeze. It had been on edge for a couple days, poor thing. Melanie had been grateful when it took up the role of protector for the forest, but now she was starting to wonder if that position was good for Bulbasaur. According to Brock, it had nearly thrown Ash and Misty into the river when they got caught. That wasn't something a Pokemon feeling confident and safe would do.

“Hey, Bulbasaur,” she asked, “are you happy here?”

Big red eyes blinked up at her. “Saur saur saur!”

“I'm not trying to insinuate anything! It's just – you've been really stressed lately. This is the first time in a while you've been calm enough to come hang out with everyone.”

Bulbasaur opened its mouth, then closed it. Finally, it set its jaw grimly. “Bulba.”

“You're very strong,” Melanie agreed. “But you won't get any stronger if you keep wearing yourself down like this. And besides, this place is getting to be too small for you.” She hesitated for a second. Time for the moment of truth. “Bulbasaur, do you want to leave the village?”

“Saur!” Bulbasaur yelled, then bit her pant leg. 

Melanie jerked back, laughing. “I'm sorry! I'm not kicking you out, I promise! It's just, you seem to like Ash a lot. You want to become strong and grow big, Ash is traveling to become stronger. It seems like a match made in heaven.”

“Saur,” Bulbasaur repeated more quietly.

“You're not sure if the village is safe?” She smiled. “Don't worry. Now that I know Team Rocket's out there, I can get the wild Pidgey on board. We'll make sure that balloon never comes close again. I'll talk with the Beedrill colony about setting up patrols, too. No matter what you decide, we're going to be just fine.”

It turned away from her, looking back at the sea of trees. “Bul-bulbasaur.”

“Yeah. Everything's peaceful now. So you can make your choices.”

A moment of quiet.

“Bulbasaur.”

Melanie reached out to give her friend one last hug. “I thought you'd say that. I wish you both well.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mewtwo found a Persim Berry! They cure confusion. It probably isn't supposed to be able to clear up emotional turmoil as well, but shhh. This is what we're going with.


	6. Who, Not What

I was getting better at keeping a veil between myself and the world. Every day I spent alive was a day I got better at – well, existing. The walls I'd placed between myself and the world had been functional, but there was no elegance to them, no flexibility. After some careful thought, I thinned them down into something that felt more like cloth than steel to my probing mind. The result was a mental shield that warped and moved with me, concealing my presence while letting my senses pass through without issue. It also provided a strong anchor point for the more physical force field I made a habit of carrying around with me. 

A little more refinement and I could probably start trying to embed a signal of repulsion to keep people from walking into me. Right now, I couldn't be bothered. The smothering aura of fear was gone. The forest had relaxed. And I was darting between the treetops, playing – er, testing my physical limits.

Yes. That was it.

...in my defence, my senses and grasp of where my body was were poor enough that I hadn't actually realized I was chasing my tail until I caught it. With my hands, not my teeth, thank goodness. I wasn't an animal.

Huh. Now that I was looking at my tail up close, it occurred to me that I didn't know what it was for. 

Was it meant to help with balance? I hadn't really been using it that way, but then, I hadn't been doing a lot of walking. A rudder for flight, maybe? It wasn't terribly stiff, though. Mostly it just trailed behind me in the wind. If I actively thought about it, it would obey me, but when left to its own devices it almost always wound up curled loosely behind me, the thick end hovering up by my shoulders.

 _Why are you like this, tail?_ I thought, turning it over in my grip. It twitched, smooth skin rasping softly against my huge fingertips. A little pinprick of pain ran through my hands.

I frowned as best as I was able. What was that supposed to be? The sensation felt almost raw – like something had been removed. My eyes were not good enough for this task, so I resorted to combing over my fingers very carefully with my thoughts. 

Oh no. 

My breathing hitched. The ends of my fingers were just – gone. The scars were all but invisible from the outside, but inside, it was obvious. Someone or something had removed the last knuckle of each digit, leaving me with thick, round pads and no nails. My feet were the same. No wonder standing was uncomfortable. I was supposed to have at least another inch of toe. I hadn't even noticed until now. How had I not noticed until now? Had I dug so deep into the memories of the person from before that I didn't even register my own mutilation? Was it my fault, for assuming it was only natural my extremities would look like a human's?

A tremor ran through my hands. I dropped them and dove back down through the treetops. There was nothing natural about me. What a joke.

I didn't feel like playing around anymore.

* * *

Depression was a fickle beast. It was very easy to sink deep into it and wrap all my aching edges in a comforting blanket of numbness. In that headspace, it made sense that I had no one to talk to. That the other Pokemon were afraid of me and every human I'd met thought of me as a thing rather than a person. That I had to conceal my existence just to stay here peacefully. A future sprawled out ahead of me, and it was a dull and repetitive pattern of doing the same things and cycling through the same thoughts.

_I want to know a thing._

_Oh no. The thing is unpleasant._

_I don't want to know things anymore._

Berries helped jostle me out of the loop, but the pattern was already etched deep into my coding, and raw sensory stimulation could only do so much. It took some shallow brand of courage to drag myself out of the berry patch and back toward the world outside. I didn't want to do it. My experiences with the world thus far hadn't been great, except the few times they had. Stubbornness propelled me forward regardless.

I refused to spend the rest of my days in a haze of grey and numbness, stuffing myself on berries to forget the utter pointlessness of my life. I needed to do things. And for that, I needed to know things. That goal took precedence over my growing certainty that learning was an inherently painful experience. So I gathered up my stray thoughts, made certain my perception filter was up and running, and drifted down to the place I'd found the human. 

Ambertwo and our creators had given me the impression that human thoughts were a bit more organized than those of most Pokemon. If I was going to investigate the world, I should start from there.

_let's see where did the hive move to after that ursaring wrecked their old place?_

There she was. Her thoughts wound through the trees like a beacon. I blocked out stray musings from the forest's other inhabitants and homed in on her, combing through her mind as gently as I could.

Her name, as I'd heard before, was Melanie. She was sixteen years old – too young to live alone, the person from before felt, but Melanie did regardless. It wasn't that circumstances forced her to. She had both resources and human friends, and her relationship with her parents was warm, if a bit ambivalent. She just had little interest in towns and the things that could be found there. Her soul belonged to the wilderness, and her heart belonged to the Pokemon that dwelled there. The sheer joy she found in life sent a shudder of envy down my spine.

Melanie had gone to school until she was twelve years and then set out on her Pokemon journey, which, I gathered, was some kind of coming-of-age trek. It seemed to mark the transition from childhood to adulthood. She certainly considered herself an adult for having completed hers. When I coaxed her into thinking on the topic further, her thoughts went in an interesting direction.

_it's funny. all the tv shows focus on competitive battlers and contests but most pokemon trainers don't even pursue those careers. sometimes a researcher or a breeder will get a spotlight but only for so long. then it's back to tournaments and exhibition gym battles and the elite four showing off-_

She broke off that tangent before it could go much further.

_be reasonable melanie. gym leaders and the elite four have jobs. it just seems like they spend a lot more time mugging for the cameras than actually managing their territories._

My interest was piqued. What was that about territories? 

A bit more careful thought manipulation revealed a few basic facts about the world to me. First, it was divided up into regions rather than countries or nations. Second, those regions were split up into what Melanie called towns and the person from before called city-states. Third, each town had a Gym Leader, whose job was to... well, lead it.

They weren't absolute rulers. In fact, I'd be hard-pressed to describe them as anything but an emergency back-up leader. Melanie wasn't exactly informed on the details – unsurprising, she hadn't studied this stuff since she was twelve – but her understanding of the matter was that the Gym Leader system had risen from a more feudal, might makes right form of government. The present job still had strength requirements, but it was less about genuine leadership and more about one's ability to coordinate humans and Pokemon. A Gym Leader's responsibility was to keep both everyone living in and around the town peacefully together, regardless of species. And to defend the town if a threat rose.

 _Does that make Melanie a Gym Leader?_ I wondered.

Cautiously inserting that thought into her mind led to a fit of very real giggles.

_now that's just ridiculous i'm only a girl who cares about stray pokemon. besides gym leaders are so busy there's no way they'd have time to take care of everyone who gets abandoned on their doorstep. except maybe morty? i thought i read a story about him adopting every ghost in ecruteak... now i want to see what he has set up to care for them. why does johto have to be so far away?_

...I had no idea who she was talking about. Her thoughts only provided me a faded image of blond hair, a vacant smile, and drooping purple eyes.

Well, whatever. I'd already learned more than I'd expected to. Now I was just waiting for the other boot to drop and reveal that Melanie was secretly involved in Pokemon trafficking.

Except no, she wasn't. In fact, she fought traffickers. I poured over her more recent memories with interest. Something about that whole scenario seemed-

_(“Prepare for trouble!” “And make it double!”)_

-familiar.

Wait. White outfits? Big red 'R's? Long red hair, short purple hair, and a talkative Meowth? Team Rocket had been here. The thought hit me like ice water. This forest had felt like safety until now. Suddenly, I wanted nothing more to flee its borders.

Intellectually, I knew that 'Jessie' and 'James' hadn't come here looking for me. They probably weren't even aware of my existence. But the fact that they had been so close and I hadn't even realized made my stomach churn. 

I could have flown right into them. 

...or I could have stopped them.

Never mind. I shook my head slowly, trying not to jostle my second neck. Someone else had saved the day. The question was, who?

_(“Humans and Pokemon can be friends...”)_

On some level, I knew the answer. 

_(“Someone's got to take a stand. Someone's got to say 'no' and refuse to fight...”)_

Even before Melanie confirmed it for me, I knew. 

_(“You can't do this. I won't let you.”)_

That didn't make it any easier to see Ash's face captured in her memories. He was so young. So small. And yet it was entirely too easy to transpose that scowling face into a castle of dark and organic shapes, firelight dancing in his eyes. Something electric crackled over him, even in memory.

Wait. That electricity...

I could _feel_ it. Not in my head – okay, yes in my head, because I was a psychic and everything was in my head – but in the real world. It felt like determination and wanderlust. And when I disengaged from Melanie's mind, it lingered like a thin layer of smoke. Now that I was looking for it, I could see it around me. A trail of faint blue zig-zagging across the forest. It didn't respond when I reached out to it. My awareness passed through it like smoke. Or dreams, perhaps.

There was no consciousness in this energy. No intention. Simply a dormant power. But it was the first thing outside myself I had encountered in this world that I truly had no explanation for, and that excited me. I left Melanie to her wanderings and flew towards the greatest concentration of blue. It didn't react to the motion or displaced air. It just continued to slowly disperse around the edges like an airplane's trail. When I tried to mould it with my thoughts, it was reluctant to be shaped, and it faded quickly once I let go.

Fascinating.

The colour was strongest around what I tentatively assumed was Melanie's cottage, since it had been in her thoughts and it looked lived in. I peered through the window in a moment of curiosity. It was very small. I'd definitely hit my head if I tried to use the door.

More importantly, I could feel that same presence around it. Ash had been here, and recently. That, more than anything else, led me to make up my mind. In a future that wasn't, this boy had reached out to a monster even after it killed him. I refused to place my fate in his hands a second time. One way or another, I would find my own path.

If this world was a cruel and meaningless place, I would destroy it without remorse. If it wasn't... I would find a safe place for Ambertwo to be born.

With a flick of my tail, I turned away from the building and soared back toward the berry patch. It was time to begin my own journey. My own coming-of-age.

Assuming it could still be called that when I wouldn't be able to interact with anyone.

_Happy thoughts, Mewtwo. Happy thoughts._

* * *

Munchlax was young, confused, and very far from home. It wasn't entirely certain how it had gotten into these woods – all it could recall was spotting new humans and waddling up to them in hopes of getting food. It was very cute, so it was usually very effective at begging for snacks. This time, though, the humans had pointed something at it and it had gotten awfully sleepy all of a sudden. When it woke up, it was in a dark place, the ground was rumbling, and there had been metal bars digging into its back. Not a very pleasant experience, all around. Muchlax wouldn't recommend it. The bars hadn't even been tasty. It had eaten them anyway, because after days of being cramped in a box with a tiny bowl of bland kibble, it would have been willing to eat through six feet of dirt.

Eventually, the rumbling had stopped. Munchlax had roused from a dose, gathered itself, and hidden in the shadows. A door had opened. A human had peered inside. Munchlax had hurled itself forward, knocked the human off its feet with a body slam, and made a run for it. There had been noise and shouting, but Munchlax hadn't looked back and hadn't stopped until the sound faded away.

That wasn't pleasant either. Running was exhausting. Nothing worked worked up an appetite like exercise. But when one was all alone in a strange place where nothing smelled familiar, one had to make do.

Anyway, Munchlax thought, the weeks of walking had been worth it. Everything was worth it. All of existence had been justified by this single moment.

There were berries _everywhere._

“Heaven,” it crooned to itself, holding up an enormous bitter berry the size of its head. “This is heaven.” It hadn't even known berries could get this big.

Munch. Munch. Gone. But there was already a new sprout forming on the branch. Munchlax watched for a few seconds, still savouring the juices, as the bud bloomed, shriveled, and immediately began fruiting. 

Amazing. Beautiful. Delicious.

“Heaven,” it repeated, and toddled toward another branch. The little berries wouldn't be as tasty as the big ones – it knew this from experience. Besides, it had been living off grass and unripe berries and shed Kakuna shells for ages. It deserved the big ones. They were so heavy it didn't even need to pick them. One touch and they dropped right off into its waiting hands.

Munch. Munch. Gone. But there were dozens of berries the same size left, swaying gently in the breeze, and that was just on this branch. There were so many branches knotted overhead that they blocked out the canopy, and each was full of food. Better yet, there were plenty of big glowy stones at the base of each individual tree, forming a natural staircase.

How had a place like this formed? Munchlax didn't know, but if it ever met the god responsible, it would glue itself to the deity's side forever. And it must have been a god. What else could have sculpted such a giant nest of living trees in such a short time? This grove couldn't have existed for more than a day or so. Not with such a treasure trove within. If it had been around long enough for word to get out, everyone in the whole forest would be here. Even Pokemon that ate each other would set instinct aside until the berries were gone. Berry trees were for everyone. And these trees _never ran out._

Munch. Munch. Gone. It sat back with a sigh, just as another huge berry dropped from the boughs of its own accord. Munchlax grabbed it immediately, then sat back down.

It wasn't hungry. It had food, but for the first time in weeks – maybe even years – it wasn't hungry.

Bliss.

As soon as the thought crossed its mind, there was a shift in the air. Something pungent and acrid began to fill the clearing. Munchlax sneezed and scrubbed at its nose with one paw.

What – what _was_ that? It smelled like the stuff humans used to keep their food fresh, but off. Underneath that, there was the reek of cleaning supplies, and underneath that... raw, thin skin. Like a blister. When Munchlax looked around, there was nothing to be seen, but if it listened intently, it could make out the faint thump of a heartbeat.

After a moment of thought, Munchlax wobbled to its feet. “Is someone there?”

There was no answer, but a faint tension settled over the grove. That was an answer in itself.

Well, then. Munchlax set its berry down reluctantly and beamed in the direction of the heartbeat. “I like your berries! They're tasty! Thank you, god!”

For a split-second, the heartbeat stopped. Then the air shimmered and tore away like tree bark. The thing on the other side didn't look much like a god, but then, Munchlax hadn't seen any other gods. Maybe all gods were like this – tall, spindly, all mismatched parts and huge, staring eyes. For a moment, they just looked at each other. Then a thought washed over Munchlax like a tidal wave.

_...HELLO._

Munchlax squeaked and rocked back on its heels. Deep voice. Deep thoughts. Deep volume. “Loud!”

_HELLO?_

“Still loud!”

The god shifted and curled its big purple tail a little tighter around itself. When it tried again, the overwhelming avalanche of its thoughts had reduced to the thunder of a busy road. Still loud, but manageable. Munchlax no longer felt like it was about to get knocked off its feet by sheer psychic force.

_Hello?_

“Better.” Munchlax rubbed its ears a little before it looked back up. Oh my. The god really was big, wasn't it? “Hello! I'm Munchlax!”

_Just Munchlax?_

A proud nod. “Because I'm the only Munchlax here!”

_I see. What are you doing doing here?_

“Not sure!” Munchlax admitted. “I was lost. But I smelled berries, so I came here.”

 _Is that so?_ The god's hard face didn't move, but their mental voice took on a faint tinge of satisfaction. _You like them?_

Munchlax grinned and clapped its hands. “Yes! The best berries!”

 _I'm glad,_ the god thought loudly, and then quieter, _This is the first time someone's liked something I created._

Somehow, Munchlax doubted that second part had been broadcast on purpose. It decided not to draw attention to the error. That thought was too sad to dwell on. Life should be spent happy, or at least full. “Who are you?”

_Who? Not what?_

“I know what,” Munchlax said reasonably. “You're the food god. Like Palkia's the space god and Dialga's the time god. I don't know your name.”

_You... think I'm a Legendary?_

Munchlax tilted its head. “Is that what Pokemon call them? I didn't know! I spend more time with humans. Humans have food.”

For a long moment, there was silence. Then the god let out a little huff of laughter and the edges of its flat, tiny mouth curled upward. It had a cute little smile, like a Glameow but in miniature. With those two little curves, its whole face transformed.

 _Mewtwo,_ the god told Munchlax. _I'm Mewtwo._

That was a lot of information packed into two syllables – _uncertainty_ and _power_ and _i will not be what they made me to be_ – but Munchlax did its best to understand. Most of that stuff seemed very large and abstract, but it also contained preferred pronouns, which was very convenient. Mewtwo wasn't as firmly male as some people were, but he did seem to lean that way. Understandable. Munchlax didn't lean one way or another itself, but it was still young. It had time to figure things out.

“Nice to meet you!” Munchlax stooped and picked up its berry again, holding it out with both hands. “Want a berry? They're tasty! I know you made them, but they're tasty!”

 _Yes,_ Mewtwo thought. _I would like a berry very much._

His skin was thin like rotten paper, but his scarred hands were soft and kind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Munchlax: I'm baby!  
> Mewtwo: :3  
> Munchlax: You're baby.


	7. In Our Forgotten Faces

Being around Munchlax was dizzying. I kept expecting it to come to its senses at any second and flee like everyone else I'd come across had. Only in the labs had people been prepared to exist in my presence, and I had been the one to destroy that fragile equilibrium. But Munchlax stayed, steadily plowing its way through the berry trees, and I - 

I watched, and tried not to think too loudly about the resolution I'd already come to. Because I had made a friend right after making up my mind to leave.

Munchlax stopped mid-bite to gaze up at me with enormous eyes. “You're going away?”

Damn it. Clearly I hadn't been thinking quietly enough. “I am.”

“Oh.” The little green creature tilted its head – was it the correct pronoun? I got the impression it was, but using that for a thinking being sat ill with me – and thought for a moment. I waited despite my unease, watching the clouds of musing swirl around the small form. “Where to?”

I turned my head away. The gesture didn't impact my perceptions at all, but the pretense made me feel better. “I'm not sure. I just know that I can't stay here.”

“Why not? There's food.”

“I need more out of life than just food. If I was born just to eat and sleep...” I left the sentence unfinished and buried the rest of it deep in my mind, where Munchlax wouldn't overhear it. Nobody needed to know how it ended. Least of all the only person I'd met who actually seemed to like me.

“Aren't we all?” Munchlax asked earnestly.

“I really, really hope not.” I wanted a purpose. I wanted it so badly. Even if I had to make it up out of whole cloth.

Those huge eyes blinked at me, dewy and confused. Then Munchlax nodded, swallowed the rest of the berry, and climbed to its feet. “All right then. When do we leave?”

If I had slightly less control, I might have dropped out of the air. “We?”

“We,” Munchlax echoed firmly. “I don't know where I'm going, either. So we should go together!”

There was so much _faith certainty belief_ circling its head that I had to draw my senses back for a moment. Even with my awareness curled tightly around my body, I could still feel those thoughts. They brought a lump to my throat. My eyes stung.

How stupid. Happiness shouldn't hurt like this.

“I'm serious,” I cautioned the second I felt able. “I'm not going anywhere in particular. I'll probably just end up flying across the region, leaving more berry patches in my wake.”

Somehow, Munchlax's eyes got wider. The first sound it made didn't seem to have any meaning beyond excitement. “That is the best thing I ever heard! A quest to bring food to the region! Road trip! Road trip!”

“We won't be driving!”

It clapped its hands. “Air trip! Air trip!”

That didn't sound right either, but at this point I was feeling too light and bubbly to nitpick. “This might take a really long time, okay? I don't want to make you go on a trip you'll get sick of.”

“That's fine. I'm on a trip,” Munchlax said. “It's a very long trip. I don't know where I am anymore.”

Just like that, my happiness was punctured. “You're lost?”

“I was lost. Now I found you.”

“I... don't think that's how it works.”

Munchlax smiled and offered me one tiny hand. “It does! Because I said so!”

Well, there was no arguing with that. I floated down and carefully wrapped my fingers around its. Only the thinnest layer of barrier remained between us, semi-permeable, soft like the wall of a bubble. It satisfied my paranoia, but I could feel warmth through it. The texture of another's skin. Right now, that was enough.

“So,” Munchlax said after a moment, “when are we going?”

That was an excellent question. I wished I had a solid answer.

* * *

There were three things which stood between me and a safe departure. The first, obviously, was myself. I was nervous about leaving. In fact, I was terrified. Making the resolution had been easy enough, but walking the walk? Much harder. Munchlax's trusting eyes on my back were the main reason I didn't just put off my departure indefinitely, or until the next round of depression hit. 

The second was making sure the berry patch would continue without me. It was just fiddly work – linking up the correct roots to the correct aquifers, building up a few decades' supply of stones as energy-soaks, and finally arranging a few stray branches to more aesthetically-pleasing positions. Munchlax was overjoyed to assist me, mostly by eating all the berries in a given area so I could see how the power was flowing. It was... fun, working on things together.

The third was where the trouble started. I'd already admitted to myself that it wouldn't be much of a journey if no one could see me. At the same time, I certainly wasn't willing to subject the rest of the world to my true face – not after even Munchlax admitted that my true face was viscerally terrifying.

“It's okay!” it said hurriedly, patting my cheek through the barrier. “You can't help it! Some things just are.”

Wise words, except that I could help it. “If I can make myself unseen, I can make myself look different. It's the same principle.”

Munchlax's jaw dropped open. It took me a minute to realize it was shock, not preparation for another bite. Oops. There was no way for anyone to tell my mistake, but embarrassment rushed over me regardless.

“A-anyway, I could use your help figuring how it works.”

“Sure! What do I do?”

“Just... tell me when I look human.”

A serious nod. “Okay!”

I took a deep breath and dredged the memories for everything I needed: shape, sensation, weight. The fall of long hair. The curve of lips. The faint discomfort of freshly-cut nails. Slowly, I built the image of a dead girl around myself. Then, finally, I opened my eyes. 

Munchlax stared directly at me and said nothing. I waited for as long as I could, but eventually embarrassment won out again. I curled in on myself and crossed the arms of my illusion. “Well?” 

“I think,” Munchlax said, “that maybe you don't know what humans look like.”

W-what was it implying...? “What did I get wrong?”

Green hands patted round cheeks. “Humans are supposed to have faces.”

“Oh,” I said. “What did I...”

“Just kind of a yellow-pinkish swirl.”

“Ah.” So apparently my past self's memory was defective, or at least incomplete. That changed things.

My second attempt went slightly better. By which I mean, I managed a scribbled-on smiley face. After the third attempt went similarly, I realized this wasn't going to work. I needed more reference. Which meant I needed to read someone's mind again and hope that I wasn't going to accidentally trip over a landmine. Joy.

There were a lot of someones around me. But only one of them would cheerfully consent to letting me rifle through their memories. Munchlax's vision was much better than mine, and though its brain was structured to store smells and tastes, it still recalled the faces of the humans it had interacted with. Which was a lot of faces. 

“You're quite social, aren't you?”

“I like humans!” it agreed. “Humans have food.”

“Straightforward, too.”

“Yep!” It waved a hand imperiously. “Now try again.”

I did. This time, I didn't just draw on my own memories – I sifted through the recollections Munchlax had given me. The figures in white and black I skipped past as soon as I recognized the red Rs on their chests. I spent more time looking over the picnickers, store keepers, and stray children. They dressed so differently from the scientists I remembered. Even the way they held themselves was foreign to me. Finally, I came to the trainers. It would make sense to model my new form off them: they were transients to begin with, so imitating them should keep me from accidentally giving myself away through dress. Or baggage. I combed over these images carefully until I found something I could use.

“You've met Melanie, huh?”

A happy nod.

“...is she kind?”

“Yes!” Munchlax chirped. “But she doesn't have very much food. And she keeps trying to chase me away from any humans that come by.” A quick pause. “You won't do that, will you?”

I shook my head slowly. The flesh of my second neck stretched, but didn't ache. I was getting better at this. 

“Good! Now do the psychic thing!” 

I did the psychic thing. This time, I made sure to add Melanie's face to the illusion. And then, because that looked weird, I drew on Munchlax's other memories to customize the features. Lastly, I changed the eye colour to purple, because it made me feel better.

“How's this?” I asked.

Munchlax toddled around me, taking in the illusion from all sides. Finally, it stood back and gave me a thumbs up. “It's solid! Now we can start on the smell.”

“...I'm sorry?”

“If you can change what people see, you can change what they smell, too, right?”

“This illusion is more of a mirage created by manipulating light than anything else. Also, what smell?”

“The artificial one. It's distinctive,” Munchlax said. “Humans don't smell like that.”

Well, that was unfortunate. More unfortunately, I couldn't smell anything. As I set to work trying to figure out how to cover up a smell I couldn't detect, I began to seriously wonder if it was too late to send complaints to my creators.

Probably.

* * *

Melanie liked talking with Pokemon, but negotiating with them could be a real slog sometimes. They were intelligent, all of them – no matter what certain TV personalities had to say – but their priorities were not human priorities. Beedril especially tended to be the stubborn type. As long as their hive was safe and they had access to flowers, they were inclined to ignore the rest of the world. In some ways, that was good, because it meant they were less likely to hold grudges than popular culture would have you believe. In other ways, it was awful, because they were terrible at understanding that nothing existed in a vacuum.

In the end, she wound up bribing them with persim berries her more social guests had been giving her the last couple days. Fortunately, she had plenty of those. Someone must've tracked seeds into the forest. Hopefully, she could find them and gather some seeds before the more short-sighted Pokemon ate them all.

That was brought her out here now: wandering down the paths laid down by Pokemon decades before she moved here, avoiding the traps, searching for a new crop of berries. She already had oran and nanab berries growing steadily; if she could add persims to her little garden, she'd be able to introduce some new recipes to her Pokemon friends. They'd appreciate that. A lot of them had been sad and nervous since Bulbasaur's departure. Treats would do them good.

As it turned out, finding the persim berries was easy. They were everywhere. Seeds had been discarded carelessly by babies, or carefully buried by Pokemon old enough to understand what they were. Even whole fruits had been planted wherever the soil was too thin to support seeds alone. The first time she saw one of those little fruit piles, Melanie went to dig it up and replant it somewhere else. She stopped just before her fingers touched dirt.

The buried plants were sprouting. As she watched, green strands rose upward, reaching for the canopy.

_That's not normal,_ she thought helplessly. The first couple leaves unrolled, the newborn berry plant eager to prove her point.

She watched for a while longer, until the sprout was starting to develop woody tissue. Then she stood up, dusted herself off, and started searching in earnest. Something was going on here and she was going to find out what. 

Her quest led her deep into the woods, where the paths started to break down into a thick covering of ferns. She stepped as lightly as she could. Little eyes peeked down at her from the branches, from under bushes, from behind rocks. At first, they would chirp and grunt greetings at her. As she continued to walk, the greetings dropped away, replaced by an uncertain tension. By the time she found the first glowing stone, the noises had stopped completely. Everyone was holding their breath. 

Melanie couldn't blame them. When she laid eyes on a Leaf Stone the size of her head, she forgot how to breathe properly, too.

“Is this...”

It was. The energy it radiated was unmistakeable. But was what it doing here? Melanie was no expert in evolution, but she knew how much evolution stones sold for. You wouldn't be able to charge that much if the stones just popped into existence.

“Where did you come from?” she asked, giving her find a careful poke. A crackle of raw energy raced over the green surface. She pulled back her hand and blew on it until her fingers stopped stinging.

_Sure, poke the magical rock. Great idea, Melanie._

At least she had a lead now. She looked in the direction of the stone and her heart stuttered in her chest. M-more stones? And not just Leaf Stones – the greenish-yellow glow of a Thunder Stone winked at her, and beside it, the deep blue of a Water Stone. Beyond those, she found a cluster of orangey Fire Stones, and then a softly glowing Ice Stone. She was so busy gawking that she nearly broke her leg tripping over a rocky outcrop. When she glanced down to take proper note of it, she found the slick purple layers of a Dusk Stone. The mineral deposit was larger than her entire body. Dusk Stone wasn't even native to Kanto.

What was going on here? Melanie kept moving, desperately trying to keep her thoughts on track. Finally, just as the tree cover broke into stranger shapes, she heard something moving. And then, the sound of voices.

Intruders. Intruders she knew how to deal with. This was too deep for any of her traps, but at this point, Melanie would've fistfought Team Rocket if it made the world make sense. She threw caution to the wind and ran toward the noise, ignoring the strangely shaped branches and the immense glow surrounding her.

“Hey!” she yelled, ducking under a particularly thick bough and coming up into some kind of clearing. “This is a Pokemon sanctuary! Get the hell out of here!”

She had a split-second to take in the scene in front of her. A very tall young woman stared back at Melanie, long brown hair swirling around her waist, purple eyes huge beneath a black and yellow cap. The slick lines and thorough covering of her clothes screamed Ace Trainer, but Ace Trainers tended to make a show of themselves, and there was nothing in this girl's face but panic. She was huge – tall enough that her head brushed the canopy of interwoven branches. She was floating a few inches off the ground. She looked... a bit familiar. 

Melanie frowned. “Gym Leader Sabrina?”

The girl made a strangled squeak and disappeared. With her went some kind of greenish blur that Melanie had been too busy staring to notice, leaving a confused “Munch?” hanging in the air.

Seconds later, Melanie skidded to a stop in an empty clearing. No matter where she looked, the stranger didn't reappear. 

Had that... had that been teleportation? Melanie had never seen a human teleport before. It was kinda scary to see in action. No glow, no announcement, no moment of focus. Were all human psychics that quick to fire off moves? If so, she could understand why people found them so disconcerting. Even if most psychics couldn't do more than hover their Pokeballs, the ones who could... 

At least you could trust an Alekazam not to hurt you unless provoked. 

_No, focus, Melanie!_ She gave her cheeks a slap and went over her memories. They were understandably a bit blurry, but the more she strained herself, the more certain she was that she'd made a mistake. This hadn't been Sabrina. Sabrina's hair was darker, and she had bangs. Also, she definitely wouldn't have fled from some angry teenager. Which meant that Melanie'd had a different psychic in her forest, messing with her trees.

That was a scary thought. After the kneejerk reaction, though, she found herself calming down. Whoever that girl had been, she hadn't done anything bad – at least, not worse than giving Melanie something else to hide from humans and ration out to the Pokemon. There was always a market for evolution stones, but people didn't go after them the same way they did stray Pokemon. Besides, rocks were way easier to keep hidden than living, breathing beings. The hidden village would be put in more danger by Melanie spreading word about a teleporting psychic, so it was best if she kept her mouth shut.

Besides, despite her size, that girl had looked genuinely scared. She might be terribly powerful, but Melanie's instincts said she would also be very easy to hurt. 

Maybe psychics were more like Pokemon than Melanie had thought.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And we're off!


	8. Knowing Me, Knowing You

I dropped out of limbo a good thirty feet in the air, still wearing my illusion, Munchlax floating at my side. It squeaked and grabbed at my foot for dear life. Then it realized it wasn't falling and began to giggle instead.

“Whoa! You surprised me!”

Munchlax wasn't the only one who'd been surprised. My heart was racing in my chest. That worried me. What if it pounded so hard that my ribs gave way and it hopped right out of me? It could happen. I was a terribly fragile creature.

“Sorry,” I said, trying to keep the volume down on my panicky thoughts.

“Too loud!”

Whoops. “Sorry?”

“Better.” Now that it realized it wasn't in any immediate danger of falling, Munchlax appeared to set the whole issue of hovering aside and began looking around. That meant doing a lot of shifting and wiggling in my psychic grip, which was – not uncomfortable, but certainly distracting. “Where are we?”

I had absolutely no idea. Geography had not been the person from before's strong suit, and it didn't appear to be mine, either. Ambertwo had given me an understanding of what towns, houses, and cars were. She had not slipped in an atlas while she was at it. All I could safely say was that my awareness was brushing up against a lot of trees, some interesting rock formations, and a lot of tiny, flickering minds. And also... huh. “We're... near a trail, I think.”

“Oh!” Munchlax craned its neck and began looking around with more energy. “Trails are good! People walk there!”

That was exactly what I was afraid of. Not that I was actually scared or anything. Humans just made me jumpy, that was all. Melanie showing up all of a sudden had... startled me. I'd been distantly aware of her approach, but I'd been distracted, and her presence had blended into the background until she'd burst through the trees.

I hadn't meant to teleport myself and Munchlax away blindly. It had just happened. Flight was better than fight in this circumstance, but I wasn't sure what I'd do if I saw another human up close. What if I picked a fight on reflex? This wasn't New Island. I didn't want to hurt anyone here... at least, I thought I didn't.

How well did I know myself, really? How well did anyone know me?

“You're thinking real loud,” Munchlax chirped.

“Please forget you heard that,” I said immediately.

Munchlax tilted its green head and blinked. “Heard what?”

Thank goodness.

“Anyway, I found something! Look down there!”

I tilted my head in the direction its hand was waving. Didn't really do much. At this distance, I was basically blind. My thoughts picked up a thinning layer of trees, a path worn bare under countless feet, and a rocky outcrop about my height. On that rocks, something was curled up, dreaming of warmth.

_i'm cold i miss you please come back_

No. Not something. Someone.

_damien where are you?_

Whoever they were, they felt desperately lonely. Even filtered through someone else's brain, it was an uncomfortably familiar sensation.

“That's a Charmander,” I murmured. “Fire Pokemon. If the flame on its tail goes out, it will die.” I wasn't sure if the fire went out because it died or if it died because the fire had gone out, though.

“It looks lonely,” Munchlax said. “Hey! You down there! You all right?”

The Charmander stirred. It sat up and tilted its head back, blinking curiously at us. Then it jumped. “Whozzat? Whazzat?”

...was it too late to fly or teleport away?”

Munchlax waved cheerfully. “Hello!”

The Charmander blinked its enormous eyes again. “Hello?”

It sounded confused. It radiated concern. It did not feel afraid. At least, not afraid of me. That was... new. Munchlax tugged at my hand gently and pointed down. I gathered myself and we both began to float toward the ground. The Charmander stood up to greet us. 

There wasn't room for all three of us on the Charmander's rock spire, but that didn't stop Munchlax from latching onto the edge as soon as it got close enough. I opted to float nearby, my head slightly above Charmander's eye level.

“Hi!” Munchlax said immediately. “I'm Munchlax! Who are you?” 

That was odd. Munchlax had clearly asked 'who' the Charmander was, yet I was certain there was more than one meaning to that question. It incorporated bits of 'where,' 'what,' and even 'why' into a single whole. As though to Munchlax, it was only natural that one's identity was built of all those things.

“Charmander,” said Charmander, and it meant _charmander-who-travelled-with-damien._ Then it pointed at me. “What's that? That's not a human.”

I shifted uncomfortably. Was it really that obvious? Now I had to come up with some kind of cover story. I... hadn't really thought of one before now. Too busy worrying and twisting berry plants into new shapes. What did that say about me?

“That's Mewtwo. He's the food god,” said Munchlax.

Charmander's eyes got even bigger. “You make food?”

“Yes,” I said, and belatedly realized that Charmander was rather skinny. It didn't seem to be hurt or... twisted, like I was, but it certainly wasn't healthy. “Do you like berries?”

As it turned out, Charmander absolutely loved berries. That the poor thing hadn't eaten in quite a while certainly didn't hurt. “It's good!”

“Right?” Munchlax crowed.

“Right!”

A simple conversation, but they seemed invested in it. I hated to break them up. Unfortunately, I had questions, too. “Who's Damien?”

Charmander's emotions flared out in a muddle of concern, guilt, fear, and above all, trust. “Damien is my trainer.”

Munchlax clapped its hands. “Wow! Where is he? I'll give him a berry!”

“He's... not here right now. He said he'd come back soon.”

That didn't bode well. “Why did he leave?”

Charmander flipped its tail. The flame at the end was looking brighter already. “Dunno. But he wouldn't leave without a good reason, so he must've had a good reason.”

Its tone was uncompromising. Its thoughts... they were anything but. I couldn't bear to look at them for too long. “Thanks for telling me. I don't really understand humans.”

“Even though you look like one?” Charmander asked.

“I'm trying to understand them better.”

A quick nod. “Right, right.”

“We're gonna travel!” Munchlax said excitedly. 

Charmander's eyes brightened, then dimmed. “I need to stay. Damien said to wait.”

There was no hesitation in its little voice. But at no point did I get the idea Charmander actually wanted to stay on this rock. I rocked back on my heels – well, floated back on them – and thought for a moment. “How about I look for Damien for you?”

The flames rose immediately. “Would you? You would! Thank you!”

Munchlax cheered. “Yes! This will work! Mewtwo's a psychic. He can find your human by your thoughts!”

That was a gross simplification, but it worked well enough as a summary. Damien was printed all over Charmander's mind – his hair, his eyes, his height, his smell, the sound of his voice barking orders. It all added up to a certain picture. I wasn't sure I liked it, but this wasn't about me. Then everybody had another round of berries. The bitter taste wasn't bad at all, but I was beginning to wonder if I could modify my berry recipe a bit. Bitterness wasn't Charmander's favourite. I just didn't know how to make spicy berries. That was a thought for later, though. The hurt and wariness Charmander had been feeling quickly vanished under the warm glow of berry-induced happiness. Munchlax was thrilled the second food came into the equation. And I...

I had helped someone. Someone I hadn't understood was in need until I had spoken with them, which I wouldn't have done if Munchlax hadn't done so first. Was the soft thumming under my skin happiness? It didn't feel as bright or warm as the emotions I could feel outside myself. Still, this gentle buzz of satisfaction... I didn't dislike it.

Despite the bumpy start, this Pokemon journey was going okay so far.

* * *

Misty planted her hands on her hips and let out a short, sharp sigh. “We're lost.”

“We're not lost,” Ash grumbled. The Pikachu on his head scolded him and smacked him lightly, but he didn't seem to feel it.

“Yeah?” she challenged. “Then where are we?”

“On the road to Vermilion City!”

Her eyes narrowed dangerously. “Where. On. The. Road?”

Ash looked away, like a coward. “It doesn't matter. We'll meet up with the main route eventually.”

“Ugh, I can't believe you!” Misty shrugged off her backpack and sat down in a huff. “This is why I didn't want to take a shortcut, Ash. Now we're totally lost.”

“We're not lost!”

“We've been in these woods for like a week! We're lost!”

“Come on, guys,” Brock said from his position at the rear of their little group, “don't get worked up. It's a bad idea to get angry in the wilderness. Pokemon can feel it when you're mad.”

Misty rolled her eyes – no duh, Pokemon could tell what humans were feeling, any Gym Leader worth their salt knew that – but Ash immediately darted back toward Brock. He moved so fast that Pikachu nearly fell off his shoulder. “Whoa, really?”

“Really,” Brock confirmed, smiling gently. “Pokemon have extra senses they use to perceive the world. They can pick up things us humans aren't even aware of.”

Ugh, now Ash was vibrating with interest. Just like a little kid. At least he'd stopped walking and they weren't likely to get themselves any more lost. The forest was still way too barren for comfort. Lots of trees, sure, but no a river or pond or something she could bring her team out in. No puddles, even. Misty could feel her skin drying out with each passing second. Soon they were gonna have to break out the sleeping bags. She just knew she was gonna find a bug in her hair by morning.

Why had she decided to follow this brat again?

Right. He'd stolen and wrecked her bike in a desperate attempt to save a Pokemon that clearly hated his guts, and somehow won the respect of an overleveled, overpowered Pikachu in the process. And Misty, who'd inherited all her Pokemon from a family that focused on shows and contests instead of battling – who'd never quite been sure if she'd gotten her title as Gym Leader for her team and her skill, or just because she looked cute on posters and TV – had promptly called the Indigo Plateau on the Pokemon Center's phone and demanded a sabbatical. 

She wanted that spark which lurked behind Ash's guileless eyes. The one which seemed to promise that greatness awaited him. She did not want the spark of some ignorant small-town boy learning basic Pokemon facts from another Gym Leader dumb enough to fall for that promise and stupid enough to enjoy teaching kids.

Seriously, this was all super simple stuff! How did Ash not know this already?

“So wait,” he blurted out, “all Pokemon are secretly psychic type?”

Pikachu huffed loudly and shook its head. “Pika!” 

Brock laughed. “Not quite. It's more like their brains are set up to perceive energy fields we can't. Electromagnetic radiation, bio-electricity, emotional charge – they can see that stuff. That's how they're able to stay aware while inside Poke Balls. Though some Pokemon still don't like it,” he said, nodding at Pikachu.

“Pi-pika.”

“It's also part of how Pokemon communicate,” Misty tossed in. “They sound they're just saying bits of their own name to us, but that's because we can't hear the specific pitches and pulses they use to give the noise meaning. Haven't you noticed that domestic Pokemon are way more likely to regulate their tone and volume like a human than wild Pokemon are?”

Ash wilted slightly. “Pallet Town doesn't have a lot of domestic Pokemon, okay? Mostly it's just the ones that live in Professor Oak's lab, and they don't spend a lot of time going on tours.”

Misty snorted. “Sure. Brock, can we set up camp here? My legs are tired.”

Brock crossed his arms, the traitor. “The sun's still up, Misty. Come on, we can get a little further before calling it quits.”

“No, we can't.”

He sighed. “That's a shame. The map says we should be able to find a Pokemon Center up ahead. I was looking forward to a real bed tonight, but if you don't think we can make it–”

She shot to her feet, grabbed both boys' hands, and began to yank them down the path with all the fury of a determined Gym Leader. Former Gym Leader. Whatever. Pikachu squawked again and leaped onto her head, digging its little hands into her hair for balance, but Misty didn't even care. A bed! With real blankets and no Weedles! “Come on, slowpokes! Let's get going! 

“Wha – hold on, Misty!” Ash yelled. “You're going too fast! You're gonna rip my arm off!”

Brock just chuckled, jogging effortlessly. Figured a rock type would have good stamina. “It's because you're letting her drag you, Ash. Come on, move your feet.”

“I'm trying!”

“Pi-ka-chu!”

“You shut up, you're not even running!” Ash growled and wriggled at the end of her arm. Who cared? If nothing else, Misty was strong. He basically weighed as much as a couple of grapes. 

“A bed! A real bed!” Misty sang as the trees began to part. Soon they'd be in open ground. Soon they'd be back in city-state territory, or at least the outskirts thereof. Soon she would never have to worry about another Caterpie dropping out of a tree onto her head ever again.

Or at least until Ash dragged her back into this forest because he'd seen a cool Pidgey – 

She set her jaw. No. Never again.

Just a few more running steps and the treeline broke around them. There it was: open sky, weird rock formations, the promise of a real route. She slowed down just to breathe in the sweet air of freedom. Then Brock skidded to a stop beside her, heels braced like – well, a rock. She tugged at his hand a few times, but he wouldn't budge. Ash slumped to the ground beside them, his pant legs covered in some light road rash. Oh well. Nothing a wash and a bit of elbow grease wouldn't fix. Pikachu waited a couple of seconds, then hopped down from Misty's head to go poke at its trainer. Or laugh at him. That mouse might be cute, but it had an awful attitude. 

“Brock, what gives?” Misty asked.

He didn't answer. He just stood there, head craned sharply to the right, staring like he was in a trance. Despite herself, she started to worry. There were a lot of potentially dangerous Pokemon in forests. What if it was a ghost planning to rip them out of their bodies as a prank? What if it was a Kadabra with a chip on its shoulder? Even worse, what if it was a Beedril?

She followed his gaze and saw a number of things. First, another spire of rock with a flat top, making it look almost like a pedestal. Second, a Charmander sitting on top of it, scarfing down a mountain of berries. Third, a pair of pointy green ears poking out over the top of the berry pile. Fourth, the figure of a woman standing beside the spire, wearing thigh-high Ace Trainer boots and a hip-length purple jacket, her long hair swaying faintly behind her.

Oh, no. Misty jabbed an elbow into Brock's side and immediately regretted it. His skin had precious little give to it. The muscle underneath had even less. Damn rock types and their built-in armour. “Brock, don't you dare!”

“Is that a Pokemon?” Ash asked from behind her.

Brock sighed dreamily. “It's something, all right.”

They both moved forward, eyes bright with anticipation. Misty sighed and followed them. Clearly, the world just didn't want her to be happy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mewtwo's human disguise: not convincing enough to stop Pokemon from being suspicious, but still convincing enough to grab Brock's interest. Meanwhile, Ash just wants to see the Charmander. 
> 
> Pray for Misty.


	9. The Naming of Things

It wasn’t that I didn’t notice the minds approaching my position. I was just… a little distracted. Maybe I’d let my guard down a bit after finding a second person to not scream or attack me on sight, but that didn’t mean I’d forgotten what I was. The illusion I’d worked so hard on hadn’t even stood up to a half-starved Charmander’s scrutiny. Under no circumstances would it render me approachable. So when someone called out from behind me, there was no one more surprised than I was.

_“Hey! Is that Pokemon yours?”_

For a moment, I had absolutely no idea what was going on. I reached out with my mind on reflex, rifling through the thoughts of everyone around me. Charmander was briefly startled, but already calming down. Munchlax was excited, thoughts of humans and their snacks filling its head. And, just a bit further away – 

_is that a charmander no way i thought you only found them in labs/she’s gorgeous so tall an ace trainer? she must be a professional who knows what she’s about! she could step on me and i’d thank her/i can’t believe we’re doing this again why am i the only person who cares where we sleep please don’t hate us giant lady/oh goodie my stupid is being stupid at least he’s learned not to knock me off when he wanders off like an idiot_

– were four total strangers thinking about me.

Why were four total strangers thinking about me?

 _“Don’t talk to her like that!”_ another voice said sharply. 

I turned toward the sound and blinked. Didn’t do much for me, but that didn’t matter – my thoughts picked up the shape of them. Three humans, none of them fully grown, all much smaller than I was. Two of them were moving toward me quickly, their minds bright with determination. The third was trailing behind them, radiating grumpiness and a certain grouchy sheepishness I could only call chagrin. The fourth shape was a round creature, slightly smaller than Munchlax, which was riding on the smallest human’s shoulder. It, too, was grouchy, with an undercurrent of deep amusement. 

That jagged tail – a Pikachu?

A Pikachu riding on a boy’s shoulder.

 _No way,_ I thought. _It can’t be. Not so soon. I’m not ready._

But there he was: vest, ruffled black hair, high-contrast brimmed cap. Ash Ketchum, 11 years old, wrapped up in the wonder of seeing a real Charmander. The air around him crackled with blue wanderlust. He didn’t even give me a second glance. 

I couldn’t decide whether I was happy or upset to be overlooked by the boy I might have killed. In the end, it didn’t matter, because one of the other humans shoulder-checked Ash out of the way and ran up to me, radiating puppyish enthusiasm.

_“Forgive him, my lady! He has nothing but Pokemon on the brain. No appreciation for the finer things in life!”_

I blinked again, trying to collect my thoughts. Short hair, dark skin, sleepy eyes, a voice that could go from warm and friendly to overbearing in a split-second. This must be Brock. There was far less baggage attached to this boy. It made him easier to look at than Ash. Still, the sheer intensity with which he looked at me was… disconcerting. 

_“Encountering a flower like yourself in such a desolate place – it must be a sign! We were destined to meet. Please, tell me your name!”_

Were… were his teeth sparkling?

No, more importantly, why was he looking at me like that?

 _“Really?”_ The girl behind them groaned. Red hair, short shorts, suspenders; definitely Misty. _“Why can’t you just introduce yourself normally?”_

Brock’s thoughts were already racing when he opened his mouth again. I took one look at that chaotic mess of _yes a real adult woman who has her life together_ and _finally i have time to date someone_ and slammed that door closed. Nope. I had enough issues with intimacy of my own. I didn’t need a ringside seat to someone else’s ongoing identity crisis. Which meant I needed to change the subject fast.

In my haste to stop Brock from spilling out another torrent of – flirting? Was he actually flirting with me? Why on earth would he do that? – I made a mistake. I’d tied my illusion’s movements into the muscle memory I’d salvaged from the person from before. That left me with a constant reminder of how the human body worked buzzing at the edge of my awareness. And, well, for the first time in my life, I was being perceived as human. Ash, Misty, Brock… every thought they had was run through the filter of their experiences, and their only experience with me was as a human. Some wires got crossed.

Which is to say, I fell back on someone else’s old habits, opened my mouth, and tried to speak with my tongue instead of my mind.

_“Mew!”_

Oh no.

* * *

Ash rubbed his arm where Brock had hit him and rocked back on his heels, definitely not pouting. “Owww. Brock, that hurt!”

“Pika-pi.” Pikachu gave him a distracted pat on the shoulder, but didn’t look away from the girl. There was something weird about the way it stared at her – not scared, not angry, not even really that startled. Just… odd. Every couple of seconds, its ears twitched and its nose wrinkled.

“You smell something?”

“Chuuu.” 

Well, that was helpful. Sure would be nice if Brock or Misty were around to help figure out if Pikachu was sensing something for real or just grumbling about leaving the forest. Unfortunately, both of them were very busy.

Brock swept his hair back dramatically like one of the guys on mom’s soaps. “Miu? A beautiful name for a beautiful girl.”

Misty crossed her arms. “Would you knock that off? Look, you’re making her uncomfortable.”

“I would never make a girl uncomfortable! …right?”

The girl in question was beginning to look totally overwhelmed. Which was impressive, given how tall she was. From a distance, Ash had just assumed the rock formation wasn’t that big and the Pokemon on it was tiny, but up close, he realized the Charmander was easily Pikachu-sized and the rock it was lying on almost taller than Ash. It was just that both of them were dwarfed by Miu. Brock’s head barely reached her chest. She could probably pick up that Charmander in one hand. The more Ash thought about it, the more jealous he got. Why couldn’t he hold Pokemon one-handed?

“Hey, is that Charmander yours?” he asked. 

Miu blinked and turned toward the sound. Her eyes were very purple. “Charmander… already has a trainer.”

Aw. That sounded like a yes. Ash’s shoulders slumped for a split-second, before he remembered Pikachu was sitting on him. Then he rallied. “Can I see it?”

She didn’t answer right away. Instead, she glanced down at the little orange Pokemon. It stared back, tail swishing from side to side, then chirped dismissively. “Charmander doesn’t mind. But don’t touch… it.”

There was an odd hesitancy in her deep voice when she called the Pokemon ‘it.’ Either way, that was all the encouragement Ash needed to dig out his Pokedex and approach. 

_“Charmander,"_ the robotic voice announced. _"A flame burns on the tip of its tail from birth. It is said that a Charmander dies if its flame ever goes out.”_

“Well, that’s kinda scary,” Ash mumbled. “Guess you gotta keep outta the rain, huh, little guy?”

Charmander turned its head to keep him in sight the entire time, but it didn’t get up. Didn’t start in on the pile of berries again, either. That part was kinda weird because Ash was still hearing munching sounds.

“Ka-chu,” Pikachu said, and hopped off his shoulder in favour of climbing the rock formation.

“Hey, Pikachu, what are you doing? There’s not a ton of room up there.”

“Pika-pi!”

“Don’t yell at me!”

Pikachu turned its back on him decisively and began squeaking at Charmander. Ash groaned. Sometimes he got the impression that Pokemon didn’t respect him at all.

Brock was still talking to Miu. Thankfully, he’d mostly dropped his goofy ‘talking to girls’ voice in favour of sounding like an actual person. “Miu, were you feeding Charmander?”

She shrank back slightly. The movement made the ends of her hair flare out like a cape. “Th-that… how did you know?”

“Persim berries aren’t that common in the wild. They’re very bitter, so most of the smarter wild Pokemon won’t eat them or replant them if they have a choice, but trainers like them because they cure confusion. You usually find them growing around towns or for sale inside. So, when I saw all the ones piled over there, I thought that maybe you’d brought them with you.” A deep sigh. “Sharing your hard-earned berries with a hungry Pokemon… such kindness! But you should probably keep some of those berries. Feeding that Pokemon is going to be rough.”

“Charmander… isn’t my Pokemon,” she said haltingly. 

Wait, what?

“I know,” Brock said, which was almost as confusing as that last statement. “But that Munchlax taking a berry bath is, right?”

“Wait, what?” Ash burst out. A second later, he realized that Misty had said the same thing at the same time. Ugh. They stared at each other for a second, then both elected to ignore it.

“What’s a Munchlax?” Ash asked. “Also, go back to the bit where Charmander isn’t yours?”

“And where is it?” Misty echoed, looking around wildly. “Where’s the Munchlax? They’re so cute!”

“Char,” said a little voice from behind them. 

Ash immediately wheeled right back around and back to looking at the Charmander. “Were you feeling left out? Don’t worry, you’re still really cool! It’s just that I haven’t seen a Munchlax before.”

"They're the baby form of Snorlax!" Misty squealed. "All the cute, half the upkeep! They still eat a ton, though."

Black eyes gazed up at him flatly. Finally, Charmander snorted a little tongue of flame. “Char-charmander.”

The eating noises stopped. The little green things Ash had assumed were part of the berry pile twitched once before the pile exploded. Berries flew everywhere, leaving a round green Pokemon in their place. It wasn’t that much bigger than Pikachu, but Ash could tell at a glance that it was much heavier. Built for power rather than agility, shrouded in a cloak of ragged green fur. He was already dragging his Pokedex out again when it beamed up at him and waved. “Munch!”

Ash immediately waved back, which was probably why it took him several seconds to realize that a silence had fallen over the clearing. When he finally looked up, he bumped his head on something in the air. “Ow, what the heck? Why did a berry fall on me?”

No, wait, it hadn’t fallen. It had just been hanging there in mid-air and he’d bumped into it. Ash slowly raised his eyes to see all the berries hanging around him, wreathed in faint blue light. His jaw dropped open.

“That’s so cool!”

The silence lingered for a moment longer. Then Misty cleared her throat. “So you’re a psychic?” 

Miu nodded slowly. Stiffly. The ends of her hair swayed in a manner that reminded Ash of the suspicious movements of Charmander’s tail. 

“A beautiful power for a beautiful girl,” Brock cooed, rebounding as quickly as ever.

“Munch munch!” Munchlax contributed, toddling over to the edge of the rock and reaching out to its trainer. The blue glow extended to it, too, and it floated up to sit in the air beside Miu’s shoulder. Then it immediately snagged a berry out of the air and began eating it.

“How are you doing that?” Ash asked. He definitely wasn’t waving his arms around like crazy. Nope. Just perfectly ordinary Pokemon-floating exercises going on over here. 

Pikachu finally sat up from whatever conversation it had been having with Charmander. It leaped onto Ash’s shoulder again – thank goodness it was so light – and grinned up at Miu. For some reason, she took a step back. “Pika!” 

Misty rolled her eyes. “It’s because she’s a psychic type, Ash.”

“Since when do types let people use Pokemon moves?” he demanded.

Everyone in the clearing, up to and including Charmander, shared a look.

“What? What did I say?”

Brock recovered first. “It’s kind of a long story, Ash. How about we talk on the way to the Pokemon Center? Ah, that’s assuming you’re going the same way we are, Miu! If you are, then please allow us to accompany you. We’re still in the wilderness. It’s safer to move in groups.”

She looked over at Charmander, still sitting on its rock. “I suppose I am. I told Charmander I’d look for its trainer.”

Ash frowned. “It got left behind?”

“Something like that.”

That definitely wasn’t the full story, but Misty clapped her hands before Ash could ask any more questions. “Well, if we’re all heading to the Pokemon Center, we should get moving! As in, now. Before the moisture in the air gets any thicker.”

“We should,” Miu agreed, tilting her head back slightly. Purple eyes scanned the sky, as though she was seeing something Ash couldn’t. “There’s a storm coming.”

Munchlax stopped snacking on the floating berries just long enough to poke her cheek. “Munch!”

She didn’t reply or even look at Munchlax, but all the glowing berries floated back toward Charmander and settled down in a neat pile again. “If you get hungry, plant these. They grow quickly.”

“Charmander!” The Pokemon smiled at her and waggled its tail back and forth. This time, the gesture looked happier.

A soft smile crossed her face as she turned toward the path. It was the first real expression Ash had seen from her. For some reason, he didn’t find it convincing. It wasn’t a fake smile, exactly, just – ah, forget it. Too complicated. “So how does the floaty thing work?”

“It’s called Psychic.” She was already walking away. Munchlax spun around midair to give him a big smile, though.

Well, that just wasn’t allowed. Ash ran to catch up. Pikachu clung to his vest with tiny paws, snickering quietly to itself. “I know you’re a psychic type!”

“No, the move is called Psychic. I think.”

“It is,” Brock confirmed. “Or at least, that’s what we all lump general psychokinesis under.”

“Telekinesis,” Misty corrected.

“No, I’m pretty sure it’s psychokinesis.”

"Well, I'm pretty sure you're wrong."

Ash sighed. “I'm pretty sure that's confusing.”

Miu let out a quiet sound that might have been a laugh. “Yeah. It is.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guess how many times Mewtwo was having a secret psychic conversation with the other Pokemon in this chapter. Go on, guess.


End file.
